The High Cost of Moving Fast (and What Horses Can Teach Us About Coming Home to Ourselves)

Somewhere along the path to “success,” we learned that the world rewards speed. Fast thinking. Fast action. Quick decisions. Constant productivity.

As women, we’ve been praised for how much we can hold, how quickly we can pivot, how seamlessly we can manage homes, careers, families, relationships—all while rarely skipping a beat. But what no one talks about is the toll this takes on our inner world.

We may appear composed on the outside, but inside we may feel disconnected, depleted, and unsure of who we are beneath all the doing. It often takes a life transition to interrupt this momentum. Divorce. A child leaving for college. A job loss—or a career shift we didn’t see coming.  These moments shake our sense of identity. And with the shaking, something long buried begins to rise.

Old wounds we never had time to tend.

Desires we silenced in the name of responsibility.

Truths we ignored because they didn’t fit the story we were told to live.

Transitions crack open the space we’ve been too busy to enter.

And in that space, we’re offered a powerful invitation: to slow down and pay attention.

This is where the wisdom of horses meets us. Horses are never in a rush. They don’t multitask.Horses don’t perform to impress or achieve—they simply exist in deep connection to their surroundings and to themselves. They are congruent: their inner and outer worlds match. They are grounded, aware, accepting. They do not force or fake anything. And they invite us to do the same.

When we spend time with horses—without agenda, without pressure—we begin to attune to our own natural rhythm. We notice the feel of the air on our skin. The weight of our breath. The quiet whisper of our intuition. We begin to remember what we long for: connection, congruency, acceptance, and alignment.

In the presence of horses, we are not asked to fix or figure anything out. We are asked to return—to come back to ourselves.This is the medicine we need in times of upheaval.

Not more strategies or to-do lists.

But space.

Stillness.

A gentle return to the truth we carry within.

If you are in a season of change, know this: you are not falling apart—you are shedding what no longer fits. You are becoming. And the more you slow down, the more you will hear the voice that’s been waiting all along. The voice that says: “I’m still here. It’s time to come home.”

I write these reflections as a way of walking home to myself—and I hope they help you find your way too. If this piece resonated with you, I’d love to stay connected. I’ll be opening space soon to share more stories, soulful practices, and invitations to join me and the horses in upcoming offerings.

Until then, may you find the courage to slow down—and the grace to come home to yourself.