After re-reading it, I drove to Spa Park to follow in her steps, thousands of miles away. I walked to the hidden geyser that sits to the left of my favorite trail, crouched down, and let the spigot's cold water run over my left hand. I sighed. I hummed. I laughed, just like Elif did on the tail end of the Summer Solstice. Both of us letting the cold and the conscious breaths reset the chaotic rhythm of our days in different seasons.

Tending the community compost reminds me to put down urgency when tending to my nervous system. To stop forcing patterns to change or sweeping anxiety under the rug. To say hello and let them ride the breaths.

What I didn't realize then was that this story about horses was about something bigger - my relationship with saying yes. I have had a habit to overcommit, say yes out of fear or control, or because I didn't want to prioritize.

Now my body feels safe not just getting back on the horse and never leaving the saddle, but practicing discernment to know when to get on, off, and back on again.

My ability to stay present and in my body during a local news interview this month was like having a little victory party with my nervous system. A party celebrating that my daily breathwork practice has indeed been quietly building resiliency behind the scenes.

Not because I got to watch the meteorologist work their magic on the Green Screen (though, so cool!), but because when I sat down for the interview about the Camp LoveJoy Disc Golf Tournament Fundraiser, I felt the familiar flutter of excitement and nerves. But my breath kept me anchored. I could feel my feet on the chair, my voice steady, the trust in myself, in real time.