From Shedding to Stride: Leaving the Year of the Snake and Entering the Year of the Horse

There’s a particular kind of quiet that comes at the end of a year.

Not the celebratory noise — but the stillness underneath it.

The part where something has already ended…but the next thing hasn’t quite begun yet.

As the Year of the Snake draws to a close and we edge toward the Year of the Horse, it feels like standing barefoot on the threshold — old skin behind us, new ground ahead.

What the Snake asked of us

The Snake is not a loud teacher.

It doesn’t rush.
It doesn’t explain itself.
It sheds without apology.

Snake energy asks for honesty before action.

For seeing clearly what no longer fits — beliefs, roles, expectations, identities — and having the courage to let them fall away, even if nothing is ready to replace them yet.

Shedding is not dramatic.

It’s quiet.
Often uncomfortable.
Sometimes lonely.

Anyone who has ever stood face-to-face with an animal they thought they feared knows this moment. The stories fall away first. Then the assumptions. And what’s left is something far more honest: the body learning what the mind could not reason its way into.

That kind of learning doesn’t shout.

It simply reveals.

And crucially — it doesn’t just affect us.

When we change, when we outgrow old skins, it can unsettle the people around us. Not because we’ve done something wrong, but because they were familiar with the old version of us. Snake years often bring this reckoning: What happens when I stop being who I used to be?

The Snake doesn’t soften that question.

It sheds anyway.

The pause between skins

What doesn’t get talked about enough is the in-between.

The moment after shedding, when you’re exposed. Tender. Not yet armoured by the new skin. That vulnerable pause is where doubt likes to creep in.

Was that the right thing to let go of?
Should I have waited longer?
What if nothing comes next?

But the pause is not failure.

It’s preparation.

In nature, animals don’t rush this part — and when we allow ourselves to stay present in our bodies, neither do we. This is where trust begins: not as a thought, but as a felt experience.

Enter the Horse

If the Snake teaches us discernment, the Horse brings movement.

Horse energy is not about endless speed or burnout. It’s about aligned momentum — moving forward because it’s time, not because you’re being chased.

Where the Snake asks “What must be released?”,

the Horse asks “Where are you going now?”

The Horse carries:

• freedom

• stamina

• direction

• embodied confidence

Not reckless charge — but purposeful stride.

This is the year of choosing motion after clarity.

The kind of motion that comes from having already met your fear — and discovering it wasn’t what you thought.

You don’t need to have it all figured out

One of the quiet lies we tell ourselves at year’s end is that we must emerge with a fully formed plan, shiny and complete.

But Horse energy doesn’t require perfection.

It requires commitment.

Commitment to movement.
Commitment to truth.
Commitment to staying in your body while you go.

You don’t need to know the whole route.You just need to know which direction is no longer behind you.

That’s something animals understand instinctively. They don’t over-intellectualise the path — they test, pause, advance, and adjust. Trust is built through experience, not explanation.

Carrying this into the new year

If the Year of the Snake stripped things back to the bone, let it be enough. You don’t need to justify what you’ve shed.

And as the Year of the Horse approaches, you don’t need to sprint.

Just place your feet on the ground.

Feel the strength under you.
Notice what feels steady rather than safe.
And take the next honest step forward.

That’s how momentum is born — not from force, but from alignment.

Here’s to animals as quiet teachers.

To fear that dissolves through encounter.

And to the courage it takes to change skins before learning how to run.