Some names aren\u2019t chosen. They arrive\u2014softly, powerfully\u2014and stay.
Before Whisper with Horses became the name of my business, it was something else entirely. It was a dream. A visitation, actually. The kind that lingers in your bones long after you\u2019ve opened your eyes.
My grandmother came to me in a dream not long ago. She had always known my love for horses ran deep\u2014deeper than hobby or interest. She used to cut out articles for me, little clippings about horses and women who worked with them, always sending bits of encouragement tucked in envelopes.
The morning after the dream, I felt pulled to go through a box of old things I\u2019d saved from her. Inside, I found the Seattle Times from the week I was born. I had never noticed the front page before\u2014but there it was: a striking gray Arabian on the cover, with the title National Star.
I have a gray mare now. Her name is Stardust. I like to think she was waiting for me all along.
As I kept looking through the papers, I gently unfolded a newspaper clipping I hadn\u2019t seen in years. It was an article about women wranglers at a ranch. As the folds opened, the headline came into view like a gift:
\u201cWhisper with Horses.\u201d
It gave me chills.
I had been tossing around other names\u2014Four Gray Mares, Galloping Goddesses\u2014but none had quite landed. None had that sacred, soul-level resonance. But this? This felt like a message, like it had been placed there by loving hands long before I ever knew I\u2019d need it.
It wasn\u2019t just a name.
It was a calling.
A whisper from the past.
A reminder from the horses.
A hug from my grandmother.
And so\u2014Whisper with Horses was born.
This work is about listening. It’s about slowing down and opening up to what can only be heard in quiet. Horses don\u2019t shout. They don\u2019t demand. They whisper. And if we\u2019re lucky\u2014and willing\u2014we learn how to listen.<\/p>\n
In memory of my grandmother, who always believed.<\/em><\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Some names aren\u2019t chosen. They arrive\u2014softly, powerfully\u2014and stay.Before Whisper with Horses became the name of my business, it was something else entirely. It was a dream. A visitation, actually. The kind that lingers in your bones long after you\u2019ve opened your eyes.My grandmother came to me in a dream not long ago. She had always […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[19],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1575","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-healing-with-horses"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1575","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1575"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1575\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1575"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1575"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/whisperwithhorses.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1575"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}