I was born in 1990, the Year of the Metal Horse.

Whenever a Horse year approached, my aunts would light up with a particular kind of excitement. As if something auspicious was returning. As if momentum itself was on our side.

There is a Chinese saying, 马到成功 — the horse arrives, and success follows. Optimism always seemed to arrive first.

To say my birth was unplanned would not be true. My parents, both born in the Year of the Dog, were advised to have a Tiger and a Horse child to complete what was called the “lucky trifecta.” I became the Horse.

I was the so-called lucky accident. And indeed, the year I was born, my father’s long, difficult years in business turned almost overnight. A sudden breakthrough. A kind of gold rush. Success came fast, and it came loud.

With it came change. Good business meant full calendars, constant movement, always the next thing. As the youngest child, and the only daughter, I learned early how to be on my own. I was surrounded by people, yet often felt quietly alone.

How to move through this year?

In a Fire Horse year, the world speeds up and hidden truths surface. What no longer fits begins to fall away. Fire gives courage but it also asks for restraint. Move boldly, but do not abandon discernment. Alway listen to intuition and remember that reedom is most powerful when guided by awareness. Keep your body moving and your mind curious. Keep your commitments few but meaningful.

As I grew older, that aloneness hardened into rebellion. I became the child who worried everyone. The first cousin with tattoos. With piercings. With decisions that looked, from the outside, like mistakes. I dropped out of college to pursue a path I could not yet explain. I seemed, even to myself, to always choose the harder road.

Horses are said to be bold and intuitive but also stubborn, impatient, easily bored, and too independent for their own good. I have lived every one of those traits.

This year marks my fourth Horse cycle. And at 36, something has finally softened.

This wild horse no longer feels the need to run. I see now that the detours were not failures. The restlessness was not recklessness. Every so-called wrong turn was training: sharpening instinct, building resilience, teaching discernment.

The Year of the Fire Horse passes quickly. What you choose to do in it will not. My advice? Ride forward with intention.