Thoughts from Dr. Bobi Farrow, ND, L.Ac.
As we enter November and begin approaching the end of 2026, I've been spending quite a bit of time reflecting on the Year of the Fire Horse and what this year has meant for so many of us. If you've been following along with my seasonal reflections, you know I love incorporating Traditional Chinese Medicine, the Chinese zodiac, and the natural rhythms of the seasons into both my personal life and my work at Full Scale Wellness. And lately, I've had a very particular image in my mind about the transition we're beginning to experience.
When I think about the Chinese zodiac, I don't picture each animal neatly arriving on the Lunar New Year and disappearing when its year is over. Instead, I imagine this enormous, continuously moving banner, almost like a panoramic scene slowly scrolling across a screen. Each animal moves through the picture, bringing its own personality, energy, and symbolism, while the next one gradually begins to appear. It's an ongoing cycle, one that doesn't simply stop and start because we've changed the calendar.
For much of 2026, the Fire Horse has dominated that picture. I imagine this powerful horse galloping across the landscape, flames flying from its mane and hooves, kicking up sparks and leaving a trail of scorched earth behind it. The Fire Horse has often been described as an intense, transformative energy, and one of the themes I've returned to throughout this year is the idea that sometimes things have to burn down before something new can grow.
And goodness, hasn't that felt appropriate?
We've watched old systems challenged, uncomfortable truths exposed, and plenty of things that once seemed stable begin to crack. On a more personal level, I think many of us have been confronted with situations, relationships, expectations, or versions of ourselves that simply aren't working the way they once did. Fire has a way of illuminating things we'd rather not see, and sometimes it takes a pretty spectacular blaze to make us finally pay attention.
But fire isn't only about destruction. It can clear away what is no longer serving us, expose what has been hidden, and create space for something different to emerge. Think about the phoenix rising from the ashes. The ashes aren't the end of the story. They're part of the transformation.
Now, as we move toward the final months of the Fire Horse year, the image in my mind is changing. The Horse is still moving, but we're no longer looking at its head and watching it charge toward us. We're seeing its hindquarters and tail disappearing across the edge of the picture. Behind it stretches that long trail of scorched earth, smoke, and glowing embers. There might still be little wildfires popping up here and there, but the enormous blaze is beginning to settle.
And at the opposite edge of that moving picture, I can just barely make out something new.
A pair of horns.
We aren't quite ready to see the whole Goat yet. The Year of the Yin Fire Goat doesn't officially begin until February 2027, but I can already imagine those horns beginning to emerge. There's something about that image that I find incredibly reassuring. Horns represent strength, protection, and the ability to meet whatever is coming head-on. The Goat isn't arriving empty-handed or defenseless. It's coming prepared.
And that is exactly how I want us to approach the next few months.
You Need Light to See the Shadows
One of the ideas I've been contemplating lately is that we cannot actually see shadows without light. We often think about darkness and shadow as things that exist separately from light, but shadows are created when something interrupts the light. Without illumination, we wouldn't even know where those shadows were.
The Fire Horse has certainly provided plenty of illumination this year, although perhaps not always the gentle, comforting kind. Its flames have been enormous, unpredictable, and sometimes overwhelming. And when you have a fire like that, the shadows dance. They stretch across the walls, change shape, and sometimes make ordinary things look frightening. Anyone who has spent an evening sitting around a bonfire knows exactly what I'm talking about.
As we move into November, I think this is a particularly beautiful metaphor for the work we can begin doing within ourselves.
We're entering the darker months of the year. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, we're transitioning out of autumn's Metal energy, associated with the Lungs, grief, and letting go, and moving into winter's Water energy, associated with the Kidneys, stillness, introspection, and conserving our resources. In the Wheel of the Year, we're also moving through that season when the veil between the living and the dead is traditionally considered especially thin, a time for remembering our ancestors and acknowledging the mysteries of life and death.
To me, all of these traditions are pointing us toward a similar invitation: turn inward, pay attention, and spend some time with the things we don't always allow ourselves to see.
In other words, it's time for a little shadow work.
Making Friends With Our Shadows
Shadow work can mean so many different things to different people, and I don't believe there's one correct way to approach it. At its heart, I think it's about examining the parts of ourselves that we don't particularly like, the things we keep hidden, or the pieces of our personalities that we would rather other people didn't see.
Maybe it's anger. Maybe it's jealousy, resentment, insecurity, or the tendency to be overly critical of ourselves. Maybe it's an old habit, an uncomfortable memory, or a pattern we keep repeating even though we know it isn't helping us. These aren't necessarily bad parts of ourselves, although we're often very quick to label them that way. They're simply parts of being human.
And there's nothing inherently wrong with keeping certain things private. We all have different versions of ourselves that we share with different people, and we don't owe everyone access to every corner of our inner world. But there's a difference between choosing what we share with others and hiding something so thoroughly that we stop acknowledging it within ourselves.
I think a lot of people become incredibly skilled at concealing the parts of themselves they don't like. We learn how to present the polished, socially acceptable version of ourselves, and sometimes we get so good at it that we forget what's happening underneath.
For me, one of those shadows can be that little voice that says I'm not doing enough, I'm not good enough, or I've somehow done something wrong. That familiar feeling of being an imposter, even when I know perfectly well that I have the education, experience, and knowledge to be doing what I'm doing. Some of that may be connected to my own neurodivergent experience, but regardless of where it comes from, it's something worth recognizing.
The goal isn't necessarily to make those thoughts disappear forever. It's to notice when they're showing up, understand where they might be coming from, and begin changing the way we respond to them.
We can't all be sunshine and rainbows all the time. And frankly, rainbows don't come from sunshine alone. You need the clouds and the rain, too. There's something rather beautiful about that when you think about it.
Shadow work isn't about becoming a person who never experiences anger, insecurity, grief, or fear. It's about knowing ourselves well enough that those emotions don't have to remain hidden in the darkness, quietly influencing everything we do.
Honoring the People Who Came Before Us
Another part of this season that I find especially meaningful is connecting with our ancestors.
Recently, I stopped by the cemetery to leave flowers for my grandparents and several other relatives, including some I never had the opportunity to meet. It's a simple practice, but one that gives me a chance to slow down, remember, and acknowledge the people who helped make my existence possible.
Sometimes I like to offer a little prayer or simply have a conversation with my ancestors. I thank them for everything they did, for the lives they lived, and for the ways they tried to make things better for the generations that followed them.
I think about how many people it took for me to be here today. How many lives, choices, struggles, sacrifices, and ordinary moments had to unfold for me to exist. I think about how most generations wanted something better for their children, who then wanted something better for their children, and how that continuous effort eventually brought us to where we are now.
And sometimes I simply hope they're proud of me.
Of course, our ancestors weren't perfect. None of us are. They had their own shadows, their own struggles, and their own patterns that may have been passed down through generations. Part of honoring them can also involve recognizing those patterns and deciding which ones we want to continue and which ones we're ready to change.
That's another form of shadow work, isn't it?
If you're interested in exploring your own ancestry, this is a wonderful time to pull out old family photographs, ask relatives to share stories, research your family tree, or learn more about people you never had the chance to know. You might discover something surprising about where you came from, or simply develop a deeper appreciation for the long and complicated story that brought you here.
And if your relationship with your family or ancestry is complicated, that's okay, too. Honoring the past doesn't mean pretending everything about it was wonderful. Sometimes understanding where we came from is part of deciding where we want to go.
Sitting With the Darkness Instead of Running From It
There are so many ways to approach this season of introspection. Journaling, meditation, energy work, Reiki, and Dragon work are all practices that can create space for reflection. I've also had some powerful experiences with hypnotherapy and Quantum Healing Hypnosis Technique (QHHT), particularly around this time of year.
One of the things I find interesting about experiences involving past-life imagery is that you don't necessarily have to believe in past lives to find personal meaning in what comes forward. Whether you interpret those experiences spiritually, symbolically, or through the lens of your subconscious, you can still ask yourself what the experience meant to you and what it might reveal about your present life.
I've also been thinking about bringing back a candlelight meditation recording I've shared in the past. There's something especially appropriate about sitting quietly with a single flame during this season. Watching the light move, noticing the shadows it creates, and allowing yourself a little space to simply observe.
And this is one of the reasons I think November through January can be such a meaningful time for Dragon work. We're already being invited to turn inward by the natural rhythms of winter, and rather than waiting until the new year to begin exploring what we want to change, we can start that work now.
We can spend these quieter months getting to know ourselves a little better, examining what the past year has revealed, and considering what we want to carry forward.
Because I don't think we need to wait until February to begin preparing for the Goat.
From Wildfire to Candlelight
One of the most fascinating things about the approaching Year of the Yin Fire Goat is that we're moving from one Fire year into another, but the nature of that fire is changing.
The Fire Horse of 2026 carries Yang Fire, which I imagine as the enormous, blazing fire of the sun or a wildfire sweeping across the landscape. It's bold, expansive, intense, and difficult to ignore. The Yin Fire of 2027, on the other hand, brings to mind candlelight, a hearth fire, or the small, carefully tended flame that illuminates a room without consuming everything around it.
That doesn't necessarily mean the coming year will be easy or that nothing challenging will happen. It's still Fire, after all. But symbolically, I see an opportunity to change our relationship with that fire.
Instead of watching the Horse gallop through our lives and wondering what will burn down next, we can begin gathering the embers it leaves behind. We can choose which ones are worth tending, which ones we're ready to let cool, and which ones might help us light something new.
And this is where those first glimpses of the Goat's horns become so meaningful to me.
I don't see them as a symbol of charging blindly into battle. I see them as a reminder to prepare ourselves, establish our boundaries, recognize our own strength, and move forward with intention. We don't have to know exactly what the next year will bring to begin preparing ourselves to meet it.
We can start now.
What We'll Be Exploring Over the Coming Months
As we move through the remainder of 2026 and into the beginning of 2027, you'll probably notice these themes appearing more frequently in my writing and seasonal reflections at Full Scale Wellness.
November is going to be especially focused on shadow work, grief, ancestral connections, and the transition into winter. We'll explore what it means to sit with the darker parts of ourselves, how grief can show up in our lives and bodies, and why the natural world invites us to slow down during this time of year.
As we approach December and the winter solstice, I want to spend more time exploring the symbolism of fire and light, particularly how we can begin tending our own embers rather than continually reacting to the fires happening around us. And in January, we'll begin looking more closely at the Fire Goat, what its symbolism might teach us, and how we can prepare ourselves for the coming transition.
There will also be opportunities to explore some of these themes through acupuncture, Dragon work, meditation, and other offerings at Full Scale Wellness. I'm already beginning to contemplate what our Lunar New Year celebrations might look like, and I'm excited to share more as those plans develop.
But for now, I don't think we need to rush toward the next thing.
I think we need to spend a little time looking at what's right in front of us.
The Fire Horse is still galloping, but we're beginning to see the end of its journey. Behind it lies a landscape of ashes, embers, and shadows. Some of those shadows might look frightening, especially while the flames are still flickering unpredictably. But we don't have to remain at the mercy of that fire.
We can take one of those embers and light our own candle.
And perhaps, by the time the Goat finally comes fully into view, we'll have a better understanding of what we've been through, what we've learned, and what we want to illuminate next.
For now, I'll be spending some time with my own shadows, honoring the people who came before me, and watching those first little horns emerge at the edge of the picture.
I hope you'll join me.
If you're interested in exploring Dragon work or acupuncture as part of your own seasonal reflection, you're always welcome to reach out to Full Scale Wellness. And make sure you're subscribed to my monthly newsletter, because we'll be exploring these themes together over the next several months, along with some special offerings as we approach the Lunar New Year.
Here's to finding our light, making peace with our shadows, and preparing to meet whatever comes next.
— Dr. Bobi
