What is the cost of inaction?

Reflection on my time in the Arizona desert.

In the early morning light of the Arizona desert, the high desert mountains, saguaro cacti, and scrub brush were the backdrop for a small herd of horses I encountered when I approached Big Sky Foxtrotters Ranch a couple of weeks ago. The place was peaceful and quiet with only the sounds of horses munching on hay and small birds chirping that look and sound like small guineas, but I have no idea what they really are. I was about to meet nine other people in person that I’ve only ever met on the internet. We are the fall 2023 class from The Center of Equus Coaching, and this is our first on-site training in the program.

Equus coaching is an experience for someone to work with a horse on the ground as a partner in the coaching process. Horses are highly in tune with energy and can sense what you are feeling often before you can, so the horse becomes a tangible tool (almost like a mirror) to show you how your energy and thoughts affect your relationships and everyday life. It’s a game changer and exactly why I wanted to add it to my certifications.

The on-site was four days of intensive training. I went in with little expectation and, surprisingly, few nerves. I was looking forward to the time away and the beauty of the high mountain desert. This first on-site was meant to be an introduction to coaching with horses, and I am familiar with both coaching people and working with horses, so I anticipated a laid-back experience.

There are ten students in my class from all across the country and one from across the pond: England. We ascended on the ranch separately that first morning, eager to meet each other and soak up all the technical horsemanship skills, as well as immerse ourselves into the world of coaching with horses.

Not surprisingly, the instructors threw us into the deep end on day one. The training consisted of three parts: watching the process of someone receiving coaching, horsemanship skills, and getting coached yourself. Immediately, we were pulled into individual coaching sessions where we had to vulnerably commit ourselves to the work in front of a new set of peers. Incredibly intimidating; however, it’s part of the coaching certification process. You have to do your own work to be an effective coach. Seems logical, but I had no idea…

I went in completely unaware of how powerful this experience was going to be. So there I was in the deep end on day one, standing with a horse in a round pen with twelve sets of eyes on me, ten students, and two instructors, and I lost my shit. I was not prepared for what I was about to unpack mentally, and I panicked. I thought I was better and now I’m going crazy in front of all these people, was all I could think about. The instructor coached me through the emotional moment, but I couldn’t shake what happened and how exposed I felt.

It was evident that I needed to adjust my expectations immediately if I was going to make it through.

For the remainder of the days, I reluctantly stepped up to my turn to receive coaching in a variety of exercises using the horse, BUT I learned two significant pieces of information about myself that changed everything.

1. I am absolutely afraid of myself. How do I know this? The horse told me. In one of my sessions, I was sharing the frustration of putting my work out there with the intention of helping others, and how it seems to be falling on deaf ears. All the while I’m explaining this conundrum, the horse is nowhere near me. He walked to the other side of the round pen, seemingly uninterested. Then my coach asked me a question - I honestly can’t even remember the question- and a wave of emotion hit me, and I answered without hesitation, because I’m afraid of myself. I kid you not; the horse walked from the other side of the pen, stood behind me, and put his head on my shoulder. He was validating my truth. I am afraid of my power.

2. When I’m alone with myself (I know that sounds strange), I love who I am. I’m authentically me, and I like that version. I clearly learned that I do not like the Abby I give the world most of the time. It’s some version of me that plays small to protect the feelings of other people. And yet again, the horse validated that information. I like the real me, not the me people usually get.

The experience opened my eyes, and I felt like I shed an outdated version of myself while I was there. The wild part is that in my heart, I already know this information. I know I love and fear my wild self; it’s the reason I decided to burn down my life in the first place, but to see an energetic being engage with that truth became undeniable self-awareness. I can’t unknow it now and it was beyond powerful. So, my biggest fear when I returned home was how I would keep the sense of self I felt playing with the horses in the desert because that was 100% me. Strong, powerful, and certain of what I want and how to set healthy boundaries around those desires.

How do you go back to the same environment, with the same triggers, the same toxic people, the same strong pull to fall right back into old thinking habits and patterns and do something different?

Then I heard the most beautiful piece of wisdom from my spirit guides - What is the cost of inaction? Mind. Blown.

Of course showing up in a different way than I always have will be challenging. Not everyone will be comfortable with the changes I’m making or with me setting boundaries they’ve always crossed. I will feel friction from those who don’t understand, but sitting in their business and playing small to please them will leave me in the same place as I was, stuck.

What is the cost of inaction?

This question is a motivator for me. I can make the choice to learn the profound lessons of this experience and come home and do nothing about it, to put myself in the same box I’ve been in for so long. But the cost of that inaction… is significant. It’s lonely and painful.

Or I can make the other choice to embrace the lessons and figure out how to show up in a new way in the same life. When I weigh the two, truthfully, neither one feels comfortable, but the latter feels like I’m going somewhere, which feels like freedom.

I’m choosing to act because the cost of inaction outweighs the discomfort of change. However, any time we move through the change cycle, support is necessary to be successful. Until showing up in my life unafraid and standing in my power feels natural, I’m working on putting support systems in place by seeking out people who honor and love the authentic version of myself I want to share with the world. I’m working my tools and making intentional changes because the cost of not doing so is too great. And you are part of the journey.

The second on-site training takes place in April. Next time I will go in prepared to be awakened and standing more in my wild.

What is the cost of inaction for you? What are not doing that you want to?

---

Coming in December!

I will be announcing subscription options as a way to support my work. If you enjoy the content and want to dive into your personal growth journey with me, consider upgrading to paid. Details coming soon.