2026: Riding the Fire Horse at the Threshold of Initiation

From the closing of cycles to the birth of something never before known

A Liminal Space

I sit under a scribbly gum as it sheds its outer bark once again. The heat of summer signalling the time to release - a process necessary for the tree’s ongoing growth and expansion. In the spaciousness of the bushland around me, I take a deep breath. The final rite of passage from student to therapist, the pinnacle moment of light at the Summer Solstice, and the expectant energy of Christmas are all now complete.

The space between Christmas and New Year always feels reflective for me. A liminal space, marinated in nostalgia and anticipation, integration and planning. A time between. Between what was, and what’s yet to be. What’s lived, what’s died, and what’s not yet born. In the Southern Hemisphere, this liminal energy aligns with the South East - a space of transition and awakening. Like the moment before dawn, when the boundary between the physical and spiritual worlds feels thinnest, and we remember there is no real separation.

This year, the energy feels more potent than usual. Perhaps a reflection of the collective energy swirling around us. Perhaps the closing of a numerological ‘9’ year and the birth of a ‘1’ year. Perhaps the planetary and cosmic shifts unfolding in the stars. Perhaps the final moments of the Chinese astrological Year of the Wood Snake and the transition into the Year of the Fire Horse. Maybe it’s a culmination of all of these things.

I don’t know for sure. What I do know is how it feels in my body… like a big sigh. A release. A tiredness that comes after a long day of hard physical work - a contented completeness. And simultaneously, a restlessness. A buzzing energy urging me to be active, focused, and ready to grasp the awaiting potential with both hands, holding on with gleeful excitement for the ride that’s to come…

There’s some caution sitting there too, deep in my lower energy centres… riding horses doesn’t come without an element of risk.

2025 has been a big year for so many of us. Naturally, our nervous systems signal caution when they haven’t yet had space to return to their relative baseline, and are still carrying the echoes of activation.

2025: Endings, Shedding, and Grief

For me personally, the ‘9’ year brought endings in ways I could never have imagined when the clock chimed midnight and 2025 began.

Numerologically, 9 marks the closing of a cycle. The completion of a chapter. A period of integrating growth and learning, and an invitation to expand personal and collective consciousness through deeper awareness. It brings completion to parts of our lives - illuminating parts we are required to let go of, whether we consciously understand the reasons yet, or not.

With most endings, grief is inevitable. And this year, I have come to know her well. 

She has many faces and takes many forms. I’ve danced with brand new grief, arising from choices that were hard to make but could no longer be ignored. I’ve been reunited with grief that had remained well hidden, pretending to have left many years ago, now re-emerging and demanding to be fully felt. I’ve sat with grief so old it didn’t even belong to me - grief imparted as a gift from my ancestors so that I might carry it consciously and release the generations that follow from bearing at least part of that burden. And I’ve walked alongside the larger, overwhelming grief of the collective - the grief moving through humanity as a whole, and the grief of the sacred Earth we walk upon.

The Chinese Year of the Wood Snake has also, uncoincidentally, brought with it the energy of shedding. Releasing and relinquishing what no longer serves our highest path. There have been many sheddings - of many layers - personally and collectively. Stripping back much of what we thought was real and true, leaving many feeling exposed, raw, and incredibly vulnerable.

Safe to say, there’s a deep out-breath happening as we bring 2025 to a close. A relief in being done with this season of endings and releasing.

Naturally, there’s lots of hopeful chatter about the transition from the Year of the Wood Snake to the Year of the Fire Horse. Excitement for new beginnings and potential fills the air - enticing after the chaos and heartbreak of the Wood Snake year and the shedding of so many skins.

And yet, I can’t help but feel cautious - wary of rushing ahead too quickly or taking it all at face value.

I’ve learned a few things in over half a century of walking this Earth, and one of them is discernment. Things are rarely as they first appear. It’s wise to look deeper, to allow space, and to move slowly - especially with new beginnings.

The Overlap: Between Shedding and Beginning

There are a couple of things I want to speak to as we transition from a ‘9’ year into a ‘1’ year, and from the Year of the Wood Snake into the Year of the Fire Horse.

Firstly, they don’t coincide exactly.

We move into 2026 - the ‘1’ year - around six weeks before we enter the Year of the Fire Horse, which begins on February 17th. This overlap may feel bumpy for many of us, both personally and collectively. 

While we are stepping into a new cycle, we are still shedding the final skins. These may be the most painful ones yet; the ones that expose the rawest and most vulnerable layers beneath… layers previously deeply guarded by our protective strategies and armouring.

Underneath, the new skin is incredibly sensitive, easily damaged. It requires gentleness, care, and time to establish strength. This is not a moment for rushing headlong into the world with reckless abandon or wishful expectations of rainbows and light. That time will come - but only once the new skin has adapted and acclimated to its environment.

This is the ouroboros moment - the tail in the mouth of the snake. Ending and beginning are not separate acts, but part of the same cycle. Completion and creation happen simultaneously. The ending feeds the beginning.

This in-between space asks for patience. For restraint. For awareness that although something new is beginning, we are not yet finished releasing the old.

The Initiatory Nature of a ‘One’ Year

2026 is the beginning of a new cycle - an initiation.

And initiations are rarely gentle affairs. Traditionally, they involve a breaking open, a dying of the old self, and a crossing of a threshold from which there is no return. What emerges is not a polished or perfected version of ourselves, but something newly formed - raw, unfamiliar, and never before known.

A ‘1’ year carries immense creative potential. It is the spark, the first breath, the moment of emergence. It invites courage, originality, and the willingness to step into new territory. But with that invitation comes responsibility - a demand for awareness and conscious engagement.

This beginning asks to be honoured with gracious tending, as you would a newborn baby. Protected. Responded to, slowly and lovingly. Not pushed to prove itself before it has learned how to breathe, how to move, how to belong in the world.

There is a temptation with beginnings to rush ahead - to act before listening, to claim mastery before it has been earned. Initiation teaches us otherwise. It asks us to step into apprenticeship, to stay present with uncertainty, and to allow wisdom to emerge through devoted practice and experience.

Beginnings carry immense potential… but only when we give them the time, care, and containment required to take root.

The Archetypal Energy of the Fire Horse

The Fire Horse brings the energy of freedom fused with intensity. An energy of movement, passion, and forward momentum. It carries bold action, rapid transformation, renewal, reinvention, and breakthroughs that can arrive seemingly overnight. There is enthusiasm here - a surge of life-force - a sense that anything is possible. We can finally move, act, and create in ways that may have felt stalled or inaccessible before.

Naturally, this is an energy many of us are longing for.

And yet, it’s important to pause and look beneath the excitement:

• Are we prepared for what this freedom and transformation will ask of us?

• Are we willing to meet the demands it places on our integrity, nervous systems, relationships, and our capacity for responsibility?

Because my sense is that the Fire Horse is unlikely to arrive gently.

Fire, in its light, brings vitality, warmth, illumination, passion, and profound transformation. It is regenerative - capable of clearing what is stagnant so that new life can emerge. It fuels creativity, courage, and momentum. It helps us see more clearly, feel more alive, and act with conviction.

But fire also casts shadows.

Unchecked, it becomes intensity without restraint. Reckless, destructive, consuming. It is capable of igniting fear, anger, impatience, and rage. It can burn too hot, too fast - leading to exhaustion, burnout, conflict, and impulsive decisions made without consideration for consequence. Fire does not discriminate; it burns through whatever stands in its path.

This is both its gift and its danger.

The Fire Horse year is likely to burn away the remnants of what no longer serves our highest self - and this may happen with brutal honesty. Illusions may not survive. Avoidance will be difficult to maintain. Truth may arrive quickly, sharply, and without soft edges. For those willing to face it consciously, this offers immense opportunity for growth, liberation, and renewal. For those unprepared, it may feel chaotic, destabilising, even overwhelming.

Fire demands discernment. Containment. Thoughtfulness. Patience. Without these, it easily tips into destruction.

The Horse, too, carries both light and shadow.

In its light, the Horse is freedom, adventure, independence, and spirited movement. It is strength, stamina, and the ability to work hard and carry great weight. The Horse knows how to move forward with purpose, to travel distance, to respond instinctively to the terrain beneath its feet.

But in shadow, the Horse becomes wild and untamed. It bolts. It tramples. It rebels, acts impulsively, driven by instinct rather than wisdom. Left unheld, the Horse gallops away from responsibility, leaving disruption in its wake.

The Horse does not respond well to force - it requires relationship.

Empathy. Perspective. Compassion. Gentleness. The presence of the horse whisperer rather than the whip. It requires clear communication, focus, perseverance, and discretion. Without these, its power is easily misdirected.

Together, Fire and Horse form a potent, volatile pairing - fast, unpredictable, powerful. Capable of extraordinary breakthroughs, yet equally capable of burning bridges, systems, and relationships if not consciously engaged.

Riding the Fire Horse Well

The Fire Horse invites us to move, but not blindly. To act, but not impulsively. To transform, but not without awareness and considered intention. The choices we make during these rapid shifts - both personally and collectively - carry real consequences for ourselves, the world, and humanity. Misguided or unexamined action can amplify chaos.

This year will not reward speed alone. It will reward presence, integrity, and discernment. The ability to hold intensity without being consumed by it. The ability to question everything, think critically, and act from deep, embodied knowing - a felt-sense guidance that comes from aligning with what is true for you.

The invitation is not simply to ride the Fire Horse - but to learn how to ride it well. To engage with its power consciously, responsibly, and with humility, so that the transformation it offers becomes a force for wisdom, growth, and renewal rather than recklessness or harm.

Sitting on the threshold before stepping into the new cycle

As I sit beneath this glorious gumtree, feeling the liminality of the in-between space - the reflective settling of the sediment that’s been stirred, and the excited anticipation beginning to bubble anew - I start to look forward, just a little. I no longer peer too far along the path. The mirages of potentiality can be misleading, illusions that tempt us to rush, causing us to miss the most beautiful moments unfolding right where we are.

This is the threshold of initiation, the delicate balance between endings and beginnings, shedding and emergence. 

I breathe. 

I notice the new skin beneath, tender and raw. 

I welcome what is coming without forcing it. I hold space for the continued release of what must go, and I allow the spark of the new cycle to catch - slowly, carefully, and with reverent attention. 

And in this delicate dance of endings and beginnings, I remember that life moves most fully not when I chase the distant horizon, but when I walk with awareness, curiosity, and gratitude for the steps I am taking right now.