We are here to remember the way of oneness, to open our wings and meld with nature’s deep eternal primordial beat… the one that shamans have gone underground, above ground, through the waters, to birth and rebirth.   What if we wipe away the film and begin again with clear eyes, knowing nothing and showing up to listen to ourselves in connection to all that surrounds us?  This is the invitation of the horses.

As I enter my sixtieth year, I feel less interested in reinvention and more devoted to remembering. There is a quiet confidence that comes with this age—not because life has become simpler, but because the noise has lost some of its authority. I am less compelled to prove, to strive, to contort myself into shapes that were never mine. What matters now is what has always mattered, but perhaps took me decades to trust. This year—2026—I am dedicating to devotion.

Ro the Coach I’m standing in the center of a roundpen with a mare whose ears and eyes are laser focused on horses grazing across the...