The Weather Gods and the Reins: When Agency Feels Bumpy
In my family, we have a long history of… I’m not sure what to call it, actually. Superstition? Emotional insurance?
For instance, growing up, if we wanted to go to the beach on the weekend, we would always make sure to say that we were "going to the snow"—just in case the "weather" might hear us. As if that doesn’t sound crazy enough on its own, the logic was that if the weather heard us express a desire for the beach, it would respond by bringing rain, cold, or clouds.
Sure, it was always said in good fun—never in complete seriousness. But it was never entirely a joke, either. There was always that lingering sense of "better safe than sorry." I took it for granted most of my life, the way you do with things that seem "normal" until you look at them through an outsider’s eyes.
Let’s break down the architecture of that belief: You cannot express what you actually want because an all-powerful force is listening—not to support you, but to thwart you. To get what you want, you must become a master of misdirection. You have to "fool" the universe into giving you the beach by pretending you want the snow. It’s an exhausting way to live.
As I reflect on the "Take the Reins" workshop and this mission of reclaiming agency, I see how deep that "going to the snow" mentality runs. Taking the reins of your life—holding them with a clarity that is neither too loose nor too tight—requires a terrifying level of honesty. It requires a sense of knowing where you want to go and clearly communicating that direction to yourself and the world.
Agency is the sweet spot where intention connects with action. It is the opposite of spinning your wheels (all action, no intent) or navel-gazing (all intent, no action).
This is why working with horses is such a profound teacher: the horse doesn't care about your superstitions. It only responds to the "short in the line" between your heart and your hands. If you are thinking "beach" but signaling "snow," the horse feels the static. It feels the lack of leadership.
The culture at large often reinforces this disconnect. We are taught to suppress our desires for fear of appearing "too big for our boots," or "pushy," or "demanding." We are taught to "break" our wildness like an old-school trainer breaking a horse, rather than partnering with it. Most of all, we fear that if we state our aim and fail, the shame will be unbearable. So, we outfox ourselves. We lose touch with our own "north" to stay safe from the weather gods.
When you finally begin to reclaim your agency, it is a visceral shift. The parts of you that were previously scattered begin to collect themselves. But here is the catch: momentum creates friction.
If you have spent your life pretending to go to the snow while yearning for the beach, actually heading toward the coast is going to feel "bumpy." You might feel like you've jinxed the weather. You might feel like you’ve wound up in the bushes, off-trail and exposed.
When that happens, remember: the bumpiness isn't a sign that you’re on the wrong path; it’s the sound of the new wheels hitting the road. You are building the "agency muscle," and like any workout, it hurts before it strengthens.
Reclaiming your life isn't about perfectly navigating a smooth path. It’s about the resilience of the return. When you find yourself in the bushes, you don’t have to hide there. You don’t have to apologize to the weather. You simply take a breath, feel the leather of the reins in your hands, and steer yourself back to the center. The "beach" was never something you had to trick the world into giving you; it was always where you were meant to go.
