I went to MEA in Santa Fe to embrace change, lean into truth, and take a long, honest look at what still runs me and what I’m finally ready to outgrow.
I did not expect that moment to come saddled on the back of a horse.
There we were, three of us compadres mounting up for a one hour ride through the cinematic desert landscape of Santa Fe. It was a hot morning, sun blazing. The intention was clear, I was doing this to conquer a fear. A fear of riding horses. The metaphor was obvious, “get back on the horse” you can do hard things Nora, you’ve got this!
And listen, my hat and FIT, on point, but everything else? Absolutely NOT aligned.
Because here’s what actually happened: I got on the horse… and immediately realized I had no business being on this f***ing horse.
Everything in me, body, mind, spirit was saying:
Nope, get off. This isn’t it.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t negotiate with that voice. I didn’t gaslight it with grit. I didn’t override it with a pep talk or the old “you got this” ego chant. I just turned to Jo and said, calmly and clearly:
“Um, I’d like to get off the horse now.”
She looked a little puzzled. “Oh, do you need to readjust?”
“No, no. I’d just like to get off the horse.”
She walked me back to the stable and said, “I’ll leave you here with Stetson. You can brush him, sit with him. We’ll be back in an hour.”
And so that’s what I did.
I sat with this gorgeous black horse, brushing him, watching him breathe, feeling the rhythm of his presence. I looked into his eyes and thought: Of course you needed to get off the horse. You hadn’t even connected yet. Why rush trust?
And instead of grabbing my phone and mindlessly escaping the moment, I reached for my sketch pad. I started free sketching Stetson, his strong frame, his gentle eyes, the quiet power in his stillness. And in that act, I dropped deeper into mine.
Stillness.
Patience.
Peace.
Trust.
Intuition.
Grace.
Fierceness.
That was the real ride.
I didn’t need to prove anything, not to the other riders, not to myself. And most beautifully, there was no people-pleasing panic. No “Oh god, I’m holding everyone up.” No inner shame spiral. No sense of failure for not pushing through.
There was just peace.
My 52-year-old self knew with absolute clarity not doing the thing was the wisdom.
Not riding the horse was the brave part.
So many of us grew up learning to override ourselves for the sake of appearances, momentum, discomfort, or grit. But sometimes, the wisest thing you can do is NOT saddle up.
Sometimes, the most badass move of all is to say: “Nope, this isn’t my ride. Not today.”
And then stay behind, brush the horse, sketch in the stillness, and remember what it feels like to listen.
-Nora
Nora Neiterman is the founder of Unsweetened New York and a creative experience designer exploring the wild edge of transformation, storytelling, and midlife truth-telling. She writes about reinvention, intuition, and the magic that unfolds when we finally listen to ourselves.