12/30/2025
This recent Sagittarius Season and Year of the Horse has me reflecting on a strong dream I had years ago â I still remember it so vividly⌠I was riding a horse, galloping fast, almost flying down an empty highway, headed east.
My hands were wrapped so tightly in the leather reins, that I was cutting off the circulation in my fingers. I was afraid to be moving so fast, terrified of losing control.
I heard the horseâs voice in my head, speaking to me telepathically, saying:
She let me know that it was safe to relax a bit, to trust her, give her her head, and that I wouldnât fall off (and that it would feel better for her if I werenât gripping the reins so tightly).
I released my tight grasp and the reins dissolved. No saddle, no halter, no bit. Just my hands twined in her thick mane and my body feeling like one with her broad chestnut back as we thundered down the road.
The next day, one of my dearest friends (and brilliant artist) Dana Sherwood / , who rides dressage sent me an essay sheâd written on this very musing on her experiences with this very subject! She wrote:
âPema Chodron, the Buddhist nun, speaks of a concept of grasping too tightly that causes suffering and blocks happiness. One day recently while riding my horse, it struck me that this could be applied to the equestrian discipline of dressage, whose core concepts are harmony and grace between horse and rider.
When I grip the reins too tightly, out of fear of losing control or trying too hard to force submission, the horse is tense and his gaits wonât swingâhe wonât be throughâas we say.
But when I give my hand and allow for an elastic contact with the bit, the power generated by his hind quarters can flow through our bodies, into the contact in my hands, forwardâgenerating a circle, a constant forward motion that can ideally be maintained throughout the ride, causing a sense of unity between horse and rider â true joy.â
I was very lucky to have had the opportunity to experience a mini-dressage lesson with Dana and her instructor, many years ago now â but the lessons still remain clear and bright in my mind. I found it amazing how such subtle movements from my thighs and calves could influence such a large beast to move! It was a gentle conversation, and I loved learning to ride like that.
The first time I went riding, as a teenager, I was horrified by how much force was used on the horses, to get them where you wanted them to go. These were trail-riding horses, that we were often taking out when they wanted to be eating and hanging out, so they were somewhat stubborn and ornery.
These were horses that would intentionally try to knock you off under low hanging branches, or bust your knee caps on nearby cedar trunks. Plus, there were bears around, so they were also scared. I had one rear up under me on the edge of mountain pass, and another take off galloping, with me barely hanging on! That horse was named âH.B.â â which I later found out stood for âHell-Bitchâ!
Such a far cry from my childhood fantasies of doe-eyed friendly unicorns with sparkly rainbow manes that I could weave daisies into! I had grown up as a horse girl with no horses, no access to barns or stables, and no money to learn to ride. All I had were my little Breyer figurines, lined up meticulously on my dresser, and faded ribbons from horse shows of yore, swiped from a barn down the road.
I devoured every book for horse girls, Black Beauty, and my friend Flicka, and all the Serendipity books with unicorns and pegauses frolicking in waterfalls.
I had MANY My Little Ponies, and my favorite lullaby for my mom to sing me was always âAll the Pretty Little Horsesâ. In my mind, the relationship between horse and rider would always be symbiotic and telepathic â friends and equals who wanted to go in the same direction, and were happy to go together. No coercion or rib-kicking necessary.
I donât really obsess about horses quite the way I used to when I was younger, but I do still think a lot about how we communicate with animals (especially my dogs!), and the language we need to learn to work together and cooperate. And I think about what it is to trust â both the beings we are traveling this earth with, ourselves, each other, and in spirit.
One of my teachers speaks often about âWalking behind spiritâ, and Iâve also heard the phrase âLet spirit steer itâ â ideas I find immensely challenging to grapple with, as a planner, AuDHD person, and âcontrol freakâ (though I realize now that 90% percent of that need for control, especially in my environment/body/daily life is neurodivergence).
I think of tarot as being a way to be in deeper collaboration with our destinies, or fates. People often come in for readings seeking predictions or absolutes â but thatâs just not really how it works. We often canât control what happens in our lives â but we can choose to be in cooperation with those forces bigger than us, and ride the waves of change, rather than be swept away.
So, all these years later â Iâm still trying to take all of that into account. Iâm holding the reins a little more loosely, trying to trust, and finding the wild joy in moving as one with a force more powerful and more ancient than me. Itâs Sagittarius energy â to be the centaur, both horse and human, a chimera, two parts working together.
This feels like a big message for me to remember this year, and one Iâll be sitting with and working on. I was also born in Year of the Horse, so it feels extra powerful to have experienced this connection to mighty horse energy in that dream, and I hope I will have more horse dreams come throughâŚ
Any horse girls, riders, Year of the Horse folks, or Saggi centaurs feeling me on all this? How about those of you who also struggle with control and trust? How do you practice being in cooperation with spirit?
ARTWORK: Tristan Elwell / .elwell â originally painted as the US paperback cover for Ashling by Isobel Carmody.
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