The fast horse year - Emotional seatbelts required

Have you heard people talking about this year having a ‘fast horse’ energy?

Apart from starting a line dancing class (after binge watching Yellowstone), I don’t know about you, but I feel like life is just galloping ahead. Plans change in a flash, emotions are running rogue, and our inner world is trying to hang on for dear life. Instead of giving you another spring to-do list, I want to offer something simpler. A way to BE with it all. I read ‘The Untethered Soul’ by Michael A. Singer a few years ago and found it to be a real game changer, so recommend it to all my clients (also ‘The Power of Now’, by Eckhart Tolle).

The main point is that it’s not about fixing, manifesting, or managing. It’s about learning to sit in the saddle of your own awareness while the horse runs, instead of getting dragged underneath it. That actually happened to me when I was in secondary school, on a trip with a friends parents to Hyde Park in London. I haven't ridden a horse since, so maybe now is the time to face that fear.

Remember there’s a YOU behind the noise

Michael A Singer talks about the difference between the chattering voice in your head and the one who hears it. I personally believe that distinction is everything. A rush of anxiety hits, or a spike of excitement, and the stories start swirling, like “I can’t keep up,” “Everything’s moving too fast,” “This is it, I’ll miss my chance if I don’t act now!”. Meanwhile, externally, you’ve just been asked what you want for dinner.

Pause and try this tiny shift. “I am the one noticing this, not the thing itself.” You’re not the panic, you’re the one noticing the panic. You’re not the frantic excitement, you’re the one watching it happen. Which is mildly annoying when all you want is a chilled cuppa and your brain is auditioning for a disaster movie.

Even a split-second glimpse of that perspective is you getting back into the saddle of your own consciousness, instead of being thrown around. You don’t have to calm anything down, just keep gently catching that difference that there is the thought, the feeling, and then there is the one who is aware of both. That’s where your real power lives.

The spring gate

Here’s a simple way to work with that fast energy when it rushes through you. When something hits, like a trigger, a surge of joy, a wave of fear, a sudden urge to control everything, run it through this little process. Breathe once, on purpose. In through your nose and a slow, slightly longer exhale through your mouth. You’re just telling your system, ‘

"We’re here. We’re not leaving." Your body likes this and gets nervous when your mind sprints off without leaving a forwarding address.

Feel exactly where it lives in your body instead of chasing the story (“What if this goes wrong?”, “What does this mean?” etc) and ask yourself “Where is this right now? My throat, chest, stomach, jaw?” Don’t fix it, just locate it, then let it move, without grabbing on. Sadly not the superpower of controlling other people’s behaviour, but still pretty decent.

This is straight from Singer’s playbook. Energy rises, and our job is to allow it, not clamp down on it. Think of it like a sensation appears, it wants to rise, crest, and pass through (which apparently takes as little as 90 seconds in real time. 90 seconds, not 3 weeks of overthinking and stalking your own feelings like a crime scene. The moment you tell a big story about it or tense your body around it, you ‘freeze’ it in place. So instead, unclench that specific area of your body.

Keep breathing and say to yourself “Okay, you can be here. I don’t need to solve you.” You’re letting the energy finish its own arc. The rule is simple, to let it pass through you, not get stuck in you. This practice stops you storing every intense experience like emotional clutter in the attic. You know, the attic where you already have 3 exes and your last job still boxed up to ‘deal with later’.  

The “Not this time” experiment

Spring has a way of waking up our old habits, like rushing into over-giving, saying yes too fast, chasing external validation, or grabbing for control the moment things speed up. Michael would say this is precisely where your freedom lies. In that tiny moment when you don’t do what you always do. So, here’s an experiment. Once a day for the next few weeks, pick one moment where you usually react on autopilot - and gently don’t. For example, you usually reply instantly to a message, even when you’re tired - This time, put the phone down for 10 minutes. You usually fill a silence by offering help or solutions - This time, breathe and say nothing. You usually jump up to fix, arrange, or smooth things over - This time, stay seated for three breaths and see what happens without your immediate intervention.

As that familiar urge rises to rescue, perform, or please, just notice it and feel where it lands in your body (tight chest, restless hands). Breathe and say, quite literally, “Not this time.” Stay with the discomfort of not doing the thing. Your mind might scream, “You’re being selfish!” or “This will fall apart without you!” Let it rant. You’re back in the seat, just watching. Every “Not this time” is you unhooking one more thread from an old identity that can’t ride this year’s energy without burning out.

You’re not trying to become a different person overnight. You’re just interrupting the automatic pilot long enough for a different future to become possible.

Living with the fast horse

This year’s pace isn’t likely to slow down and the world’s tempo is what it is, but your inner relationship to it can shift dramatically if you keep remembering you are the one who notices the storm, not the storm itself. Let emotions rise and fall without trapping them in stories. And experiment, in small ways, with not acting out your oldest habits every single time. This isn’t about spiritual perfection, it’s spiritual practicality.

Over time, something subtle but unmistakable happens. Life can move fast, energy can surge, and change can arrive unannounced, but you’re still here, in the seat, aware. From that place, spring doesn’t feel like it’s dragging you by the ankles, it feels more like what it actually is - a wild, generous, sometimes chaotic invitation to let old patterns rise and release, and to ride your own life with just a little more space, breath, and choice. Fast horse yes, but you’re allowed the luxury of a better saddle this time.