Lessons of the Fire Horse: Where Power Comes Home
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
By Dusty Anne Simmers
Everyone is talking about the Year of the Horse. The momentum. The freedom. The fire. But the truth is—the Year of the Horse doesn’t arrive until February 17. And horses, more than anything, teach us that timing is not optional.
Power before presence is reckless. Speed without connection is unsafe. The Fire Horse does not reward force—it responds to truth.
I’ve been riding and competing on Fire Horses since 1999. My very first competition horse was fire in every sense of the word. When we entered the arena, people moved. She was fast, hot, electric. You didn’t manage her—you met her. You earned her trust or you didn’t ride.
That lesson has never left me.
But this year, the Fire Horse taught me something deeper.
I showed up to a Gymkhana Play Day planning to ride one horse. He wouldn’t load. Another horse wasn’t the right fit. And instead, I found myself riding the horse I bought a few months ago for me—a horse my son has slowly been taking over.
He’s a Fire Horse in a quieter way.
Calm. Kind. Steady. He’ll run with power when I ask—but with my son, he becomes gentle, patient, exactly what’s needed. Watching them together, something cracked open inside me. As my son ran down the arena away from me, pride and fear collided so hard I nearly panicked. It was one of those moments you don’t plan for—the ones you dream about.
And suddenly, the lesson became clear.
Not all Fire Horses look the same.
Some are war horses.
Some are competition horses.
Some are quiet carriers of courage.
Some teach us how to trust again.
The Fire Horse doesn’t seek approval. It seeks connection. When forced, it disconnects. When judged, it protects itself. When misunderstood, it resists. But when met with honesty, presence, and trust—something extraordinary happens.
This is where the real power lives.
As we close the Snake Year—shedding old skins, old identities, old stories—and approach the Fire Horse at its true beginning, this is not a year that can be forced. It won’t respond to hype. It won’t tolerate performance. It requires embodiment.
The Fire Horse asks:
Are you listening to yourself?
Are you checking in before charging ahead?
Do you know where you come home when things feel shaky?
Because coming home—to your body, your truth, your center—is the most important work you can do before stepping into power.
I’ve watched what happens when people take a chance on a horse others warned them about. I’ve watched what happens when labels fall away and trust replaces fear. I’ve lived the transformation of being seen differently—not because I proved something, but because I became something.
Horses are not just symbols. They are living teachers. Across the world, they are used for healing, regulation, empowerment, and survival. I personally work with hundreds of girls each year through horses—and what unfolds in those spaces can’t be manufactured. It must be felt.
This is the deeper lesson of the Fire Horse:
Power is not domination.
Freedom is not chaos.
Fire is not destruction.
Fire is refinement.
Fire is clarity.
Fire is truth made visible.
As February approaches and the Fire Horse arrives—not early, not late, but right on time—may we resist the urge to rush. May we pause. May we check in. May we come home to ourselves before asking the year to carry us forward.
Because when you trust yourself, trust your journey, and trust the horse beneath you—the magic that follows is not loud.
It’s sacred.
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