Somewhere Between Chaos & Stillness

What I tapped into when standing on an open plain in Turkey last week as 150 wild horses charged straight toward me and my friends.

When I started writing this, I was suspended somewhere between two vastly different worlds. Geographically, I was in transit between Bodrum, Turkey — a collection of small, quiet beach towns cradled by the Mediterranean — and London, England, one of the most bustling cities on earth.

Internally, I was caught somewhere between the indulgent stillness of being immersed in nature and the reluctant pull of reentering the up-tempo, relentless rhythms of city life.

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In Cappadocia Turkey, I experienced something last week that I pray my mind stays healthy enough to never let me forget. With a group of four friends, all sharing deep, soulful connections on this trip, we were guided to a plateau where about twenty wild horses were calmly grazing. Two cowboys — an elder named Ali, known locally as “The Horse Whisperer,” and his son — rode out across the plains on horseback with their herding dogs following closely. Neither of them spoke English. While we had a wonderful translator, we were given no instructions, no rules, and no preparation for what was about to unfold. What happened next is something that would never be allowed in America, and I feel deeply honored to have stood on that dusty earth that day.

We believed our experience would be limited to standing among the twenty grazing horses, which alone would have been special. But then, Ali and his son began driving a herd of around 150 wild horses toward us. As they charged in our direction, Ali expertly slowed them down just before they reached us, and guided them to move through and around us.

When I think of that moment, I can still feel the sensation in my bones of those 600 hooves pounding the earth beneath us. The percussive pounding grew louder and richer as they came closer, a thunderstorm of sound and vibrations engulfed us. As the horses closed the gap, they brought with them a swirling dust storm, creating a moment of complete blindness for all. (See a video of this on my instagram here)

You can also see this in video on my instagram HERE

Despite my limited experience with horses — especially wild ones — I instinctively knew I was safe. I witnessed my body hijack my brain's instinct to fight or flee, and instead of screaming or running, I rooted down into the earth and opened my heart with a force that matched the intensity of their thunderous gallop. I could sense the horses’ lack of fear and confusion. Some seemed familiar with this interaction, while others kept their distance. I noticed the mares repositioning mid-run, gingerly placing themselves between us and their foals. All of my senses were activated and charged up.

In that moment of visual blindness, as the horses breathed heavily and loudly around us, I felt that any movement on my part could create chaos. Somehow, I knew in my body that they had clocked each of us and that we were safe if we just stood still.

Finding stillness in the midst of chaos was the choice that could save a life, or a limb. Those seconds of intense, blinding movement revealed the importance of standing grounded in trust, faith, and courage when the world around us feels like it could be spinning out of control.

Later, we reflected on the poetic metaphor of standing still when life kicks up dust around us, waiting for it to settle before making decisions. We discussed how trust and courage are essential in moments when everything feels uncertain.

As a teenager, I loved the thrill of rollercoasters. While my friends screamed and held on tightly during the final tick upward, I would relax my grip and challenge myself to let go — to surrender to the drop just as the cars shifted from climbing upwards to plummeting dramatically downwards. I was reminded of those moments as I stood in Cappadocia, surrendering to the galloping wild horses in that same way.

Over the past year, I've been working with a coach to apply this conscious practice of surrender to various situations, especially ones where I have historically approached as something my coach calls “shit-gripping" — trying to control every lever, every outcome.

On the dusty plateau, standing with my palm open to the horses and the other hand holding my phone to record what I could, I shit-gripped nothing. I relaxed, rooted down, and surrendered into the earth’s surface much like I had in those molded plastic chairs of rollercoaster rides years ago.

What are you gripping tightly? For me, it's historically been anything related to work. My journey these past two years has been about learning how to release that tight grip, to root down and trust in the experiences that come our way, whether they arrive like a herd of wild horses or the gentle trot of a few. Can we listen? Can we center ourselves enough to learn from each journey, not just rush to the outcomes?

JOURNAL PROMPT: What are you holding onto tightly right now? What expectations or hopes are wrapped up in that grip? Is there truly anything about the situation you can control, or have you already taken the necessary action? If you’ve done what you can, are you willing to take a deep breath and loosen your grip? Can you see that softening as an act of courage? I can. If you’ve managed to relax, I hope you honor your strength in doing so. May you find some comfort in the uncertainty.

If we ever stand side by side, may we do so with relaxed bodies, open palms, and open hearts, ready face life’s horses — whether wild or gentle — as they move toward us.

It wasn’t until the dust began to settle, when we checked on one another’s safety, that we noticed two baby colts nursing between us. Other mares stood protectively beside them, heads resting gently on the feeding mother’s back, signaling their solidarity. In that moment, I understood that these magnificent horses had found trust and stillness in the chaos, too.

What an incredible honor it would be for me if this little space on Substack we’re creating can feel like me putting my hand on your back, letting you know you’re not alone, as you courageously navigate the messiness of your human journey.  

As you move forward, remember: don’t make any sudden movements until the dust settles and your vision clears. Breathe deeply, and always leave room for magic.

Cheers, dears — Allison

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