Shed like a snake. Run like a horse. Roar like a fire.
moving into 2026 with intention
“There is a snake inside you. Pick it up,” she said.
The woman in my dream, the elder, auntie, teacher, stepping right up to me, telling me to embrace both my power and my shedding.
I dream wild, vividly, and nightly—sometimes those dreams mean something, amount to something, and sometimes they are quiet, fading into the ether of my daily life.
Before I knew it was the year of the snake, snakes were visiting me.
Before I knew that next year is the year of the horse, I was being guided by the energy of the horse, of Saint Brigid.
I want to close out 2025 and move into 2026 connected to our inner world, to our dreams and visions, because those are the portals that are always open to us, the deepest parts of ourselves where our souls wish to speak, where our ancestors ask us to see what we cannot always see and know deeply in ourselves what we often cannot understand.
“It is a time when an inner clock strikes an hour that forces a woman to have sudden need of a sky to call her own, a tree to throw her arms around, a rock to press to her cheek. Yet she must live her upside life as well.”
—Clarissa Pinkola Estés
“What if you slept, and what if in your sleep you dreamed, and what if in your dream you went to haven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower and when you awoke you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?”
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge
“You learn to make ladders, to go to the depths of understanding within yourself.”
—Joy Harjo
When snakes shed, they are vulnerable. They may hide, may be a little cranky, and certainly shouldn’t be handled. The process of shedding should never be forced.
Isn’t that a lot like us? When we let go of past versions of ourselves, or we prepare to embrace new truths, we are vulnerable. We may want to be alone in a dark place to process. We may be in some pain or discomfort. And we certainly don’t want to be forced.
When snakes shed, a film covers their eyes during the “blue phase,” when a bluish film further protects them as they shed their skin fully from their bodies. Maybe they don’t see things clearly during this stage, but once they are past it, they will.
Maybe we can’t see past the shedding, past the grieving, past the moment. But we will. On the other side, with fresh vision, we will understand parts of ourselves, part of the journey that didn’t make sense before.
We can trust ourselves. We can trust the shedding. We can begin here.
If this resonates, you’ve probably been shedding for a few months. Maybe Autumn was your season of shedding, or this entire year. Maybe you’ve been vulnerable, sensitive, hiding in the quiet so you can slowly, fully let go.
Remember, it won’t be as if a switch is flipped when the calendar turns to January 1. That’s not how this works, it’s not how we work.
The Lunar New Year brings the year of the fire horse on February 17, 2026, so we ease our way toward a new beginning, both individually and collectively.
I’m no expert in the Chinese lunar calendar, and I wouldn’t pretend to be; what I appreciate about our different cultural visions and metaphors is how they overlap in our lives, how the Universe brings us into alignment, how we need each other. What can you learn from those who go before you, from those who teach you how to be a fuller version of yourself?
In 2026, we run like a horse. Horses represent power, freedom, forward movement through our spiritual journeys. To be honest, we have no idea what 2026 will hold; there will for sure be war, pain, grief, that’s the journey of being human, after all. But we can move forward even in that, not giving up on ourselves, trusting the horse-energy.
Saint Brigid, Celtic goddess and Christian saint, had a connection with many animals, horses included; I think of her on my days of exhaustion, as I struggle with chronic illness, all the portals and thresholds she invites me through. May she do the same for you, with the spirit of the horse, leading you deeper into yourself.
What could you be galloping toward? What do you hold on the horizon that waits for you, and as you journey with your own soul, how can you listen deeply to the voices guiding you?
And in 2026, may we roar like a fire. In our Potawatomi tradition, we are the people of the place of fire, Bodewadmi ndaw. We honor the fire in our bones, our bellies, our hearts. We honor the visions that show themselves to us, the ancestors who fulfill the dreams of the people through us.
As I dive deeper into Gaelic language and Celtic culture, I see a mirror of who we are as Potawatomi people, and embrace all parts of my own heritage to understand who I am. Dealan-dé is the word for butterfly in Scottish Gaelic, and translates to “the fire of God” and the Potawatomi for fire is shkodé, our word for heart being odé. So I think of our heart-fire, and how, like the butterfly, we, too, are the fire of God, helping to create and sustain sacredness on the earth.
How will you tend to your heart-fire?
“Close your eyes.
Gather all the kindling
About your heart
To create one spark.”
—John O’Donohue
Thank you for sharing these healing thoughts, I need this wisdom in my life. I love as well how you connect Potawatomi teachings with Celtic teachings, I feel as a British Celt, that I miss deeply the wisdom of the ancestors. My sons birthday is 17th February, we can celebrate the year of the horse as well as his birthday.
Well this is exactly what I needed for today as I creep quietly and slowly into this new year, trying to weave the threads of what I take forward and gently trim what I want to leave behind. Thank you.