Lucky Year
A Return to Fire
The calendar didn’t change me. Remembering who I’ve always been did.
Today marks the beginning of the Fire Horse year. A rare alignment that only happens every 60 years.
I’ve heard people talking about it so much lately like it’s a reset. A shift. A turning point.
Is it just my algorithm or do you all see it too?
After the year I’ve had, I wanted to believe that simply reaching today, Feb 17th, I would wake up to a complete shift.
But this morning, I woke up feeling the same.
The same uncertainty.
The same weight.
The same questions.
And that’s when I realized something important.
Energy doesn’t shift because a date does.
It shifts when we do.
2025 was one of the most challenging years of my life.
They say the Snake year represents shedding — and holy shit, did I feel that.
The shedding started almost immediately. Our business lost key employees. Our family lost my step mother-in-law. I lost friendships I thought would be in my life forever. I lost emotional and financial security.
As I write this, my office is bare. The house we thought we would live in forever is being sold, and because of last year’s financial shifts, we aren’t in a position to buy it. It feels heavy and devastating.
So we are packing up. And leaving.
There were decisions made throughout last year that left me feeling unheard, unseen, and unworthy — decisions that deeply impacted my life.
It felt like everything I counted on was slowly being removed.
When this happens, you don’t expand.
You retract.
I isolated.
I hid.
I felt ashamed, fearful, anxious, inadequate.
My joy dimmed to a flicker.
I wasn’t living — I was surviving.
Yes, there were beautiful moments in 2025. But even those felt muted under the weight of everything else.
As I kept hearing about the Fire Horse year, I found myself thinking:
“I can’t wait for it all to change.”
Yesterday morning, as I was packing up to leave Jiu Jitsu, my professor, Gigi — a legend in the sport and someone I deeply respect — came over and started dropping wisdom.
With his heavy Portuguese accent he said:
“As you prepare to compete at Worlds, you need to do different things.”
I nodded, assuming he meant train harder.
But he continued:
“The problem is, you always do the thing you are comfortable with. Sometimes it works. But you need to start doing new things that aren’t comfortable. You need to understand why things work and don’t work.”
It hit me instantly.
I get stuck repeating what feels safe — even when it isn’t working.
He went on to say, “Man. Jiu Jitsu is just like life. We have to do what is uncomfortable to get better and grow.”
He’s right…
We cling to what is familiar.
We hide in what feels predictable.
We isolate when expansion feels risky.
This past year, I tried to find comfort in hiding.
Hiding is stagnant.
It doesn’t build momentum.
Discomfort does.
The calendar didn’t just miraculously change me this morning.
But that conversation helped create a shift.
Horses have always held a sacred place in my heart.
What’s funny is I loathe snakes. Coincidence? I think not.
But horses? Horses represent power. Freedom. Joy.
I grew up in the country. My grandparents were our only neighbors, and they had a pasture of 10 or 12 horses — most of them unbroken.
One day my grandpa told me to choose one, and he would help me train it. That horse would be mine.
Out of all of them, I was drawn to one.
A fiery Arabian named Lucky.
Lucky & me. My fire horse.
He was a beautiful chestnut red with a large white circle on his forehead and a small triangular patch between his nostrils that looked like a heart. That heart was velvety soft.
Lucky was full of spunk. Stubborn at times. Regal. Alert. Quietly confident.
In the pasture, there was a pecking order. Lucky wasn’t the loudest or most dominant. He fell somewhere in the middle of the pecking order. But I remember once when the lead mare got tangled in barbed wire — Lucky stood watch over her until help arrived.
He wasn’t loud.
But he was loyal.
With my grandpa’s help, I trained him. He became my horse for Western Show and Rodeo, though in hindsight, he wasn’t built for either. He wasn’t the typical Quarter Horse you see at these types of events. He was a little paunchy. And he hated being ridden bareback. He’d gently buck me off every time I tried.
He knew who he was.
My horse days. Before I forgot how bold I could be.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot that I was once that girl.
The one who chose the fiery horse.
The one who trained something unbroken.
The one who got bucked off and got back on.
The one who walked into arenas before she felt ready.
Looking at these photos and thinking of Lucky, I feel an awakening.
Boldness has always lived inside me. It was never gone. It was just buried under fear, disappointment, and survival.
So this year, I’m not trying to become someone new.
I’m returning to who I’ve always been.
Quiet.
Confident.
Willing to get uncomfortable.
Willing to do things differently.
Willing to move forward even when it feels uncertain.
There may still be shedding.
But I am no longer waiting for a specific date to shift my energy.
I am claiming this as my Lucky Year — because I am willing to take bold action.
Lucky energy.
A return to fire.
If something stirred in you while reading this…
If there’s a version of you that you’ve tucked away…
If you’re ready to stop waiting for a date to feel different —
I’ve created something for this season.
Refinement Rituals is something I created a few years ago when I needed structure as a way to holistically realign with the best version of me.
It's not a reinvention.
It's a remembrance.
If you want to walk through this Lucky Year, Fire Horse, season with me, leave your name below. I'll let you know just as soon as you can get your own Refinement Rituals.
Let’s return to our fire together.
