"Riding grounds me. It reminds me who I am and the kind of woman I want to be—bold, tender, and unshakably present."
There’s a certain stillness in the presence of a horse. Not silence exactly — because there’s breath, there’s movement, there’s energy. But it’s the kind of stillness that goes deeper. Like they see through you. Like they know who you are long before you speak.
I’ve loved horses for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t something I chose, not really — it was something I felt pulled to, like gravity. As a girl, I would watch them move with this quiet power, a blend of grace and muscle, of softness and strength. And I think, in many ways, I’ve been chasing that same balance my whole life.
Being around horses teaches you presence. You can’t fake it with them. You have to be still, calm, alert — aware of both your energy and theirs. It’s not just about control. It’s about trust. And that lesson, strangely enough, is one I’ve taken into almost every role I’ve played.
So many of the women I’ve been honored to portray — whether in Westerns, thrillers, or stories with grit and heart — carry that same duality. They’re strong, but not hardened. They know how to lead, but they’ve been through things that have shaped them. They’re capable, but not afraid to feel. In a way, they remind me of the horses I grew up admiring — untamed but tender, powerful yet intuitive.
When I’m riding — whether on a ranch or prepping for a scene — I feel completely in sync with something older, something wilder. It grounds me. It reminds me that strength doesn’t have to be loud. That being steady is sometimes more powerful than being forceful. And that there’s something deeply feminine about knowing when to run, when to stand still, and when to simply listen.
The bond I have with horses isn’t just a hobby or a backdrop to my life — it’s woven into who I am. It informs how I move, how I listen, how I lead. And I think that’s why it shows up, again and again, in the characters I play and the world I’m building beyond the screen.
So if you ever catch a glimpse of me in the saddle, hair tangled in the wind, boots dusty, eyes focused — know this: that’s where I feel most myself. And somehow, that wild heart finds its way into every story I tell.
With love,
Danielle