Fall is often spoken of as a season of letting go, and of course, it is. Trees shed their leaves, the daylight shortens, and nature quietly prepares for rest.

But fall is also a time of harvest, of abundance, gratitude, and reflection.

As Equus Coaches, we experience the rhythms of the seasons in a tangible way.
We notice how energy shifts within the herd and how the changing air brings a sense of settling.

And in that settling, there is space — not just the kind that comes from letting go, but the kind that opens when we pause to acknowledge what has been created and learned.

Earlier this year, I found myself ready to move on from certain aspects of my coaching practice. Much of it had served both my clients and my own growth beautifully. Yet I was also holding onto a few old patterns, some perceived mistakes (and surely a few real ones). The energy around this felt heavy.

Still, I wasn’t clear on what needed to come next. For the first time, possibly ever, I didn’t want to pursue the familiar path of figuring it out.

Instead, I made a different kind of choice:
to acknowledge that some dreams simply no longer fit;
to forgive the missteps;
to honor the lessons;
and to notice what began to fall away naturally, not in dramatic, sweeping gestures but in quiet, consistent ways.

Sometimes change enters our lives not as a major event, but as the noticing of what we’ve outgrown. One thing I knew for sure: space would be needed for something new to take shape. And that space would not be empty, but fertile.

This distinction, to me, is the heart of fall, a time to notice not just what has fallen away but what has ripened the soil. A time to feel grateful for the fruits of our labor and to recognize the value of rest and allowing.

Horses come by presence naturally.
They don’t force the next thing to arrive.
They don’t perform when the moment calls for stillness.
They simply are. And in their presence, we remember that space is not a void; it’s an opening.

This season, may we honor the harvest.
May we give thanks for what has grown, gently release what no longer fits, and trust the space that follows. There is wisdom in the pause, and much like our horse partners, we can learn to stand in it, aware and ready for what comes next.