Yesterday, something totally new and remarkable happened with Odin.
I was sitting with Susan J. when it happened. Odin stood close by, waiting hopefully for a treat. Susan rustled open her cookie bag, and the sharp crinkle startled him. Normally, that sound would have sent him leaping backward or spinning away, driven by the reflex of old fears.
But this time was different. This time, Odin didn’t run. He flinched, yes. His body braced, his eyes widened—but his feet stayed firmly planted. He stood his ground.
For a horse with a history of deep trauma, this moment is nothing short of profound. It shows us that trust is slowly replacing terror, that safety is beginning to settle into his bones.
And perhaps there’s a message here for all of us. Life startles us too—through sudden changes, unexpected challenges, or the crinkle of things we can’t control. Our instinct might be to run, to escape, to shut down. But like Odin, we can choose another way. We can pause, take a breath, and stay rooted in the present moment.
Courage doesn’t mean never being afraid. It means standing still, heart racing, and choosing not to flee. Odin reminded me of that yesterday with his simple, powerful act of stillness.
Here’s to the quiet victories—whether horse or human—that carry us forward on the path of healing.
Odin 