As December fades into January, I find myself returning to a familiar assignment — one I first picked up as a Culture Desk reporter and now continue as an editor. It’s time to write once again about the New Year’s zodiac animal and what it supposedly means for all of us.

To be honest, this task has become more a habit, driven by inertia. The outline is always there: A ready-made topic, a cultural framework that many readers share and an annual excuse to talk about traditions that survive because they stay useful, not because they stay factual.

Still, every year, a quiet question lingers in the back of my mind: Do we really believe this? That all people born 12 years apart share a distinct set of personality traits based on the animal assigned to their birth year?

In 2026, that animal is the horse. In Korean tradition, the horse stands for more than just speed or strength. It is considered a sacred and auspicious creature — a messenger between heaven and earth, a sign of royal presence and a symbol of power, passion and forward movement. It has long carried more than just riders; it has carried meaning.

There is also a long-standing stereotype about people born in the Year of the Horse — the seventh sign in the Chinese zodiac cycle. They’re said to be bright, open, sociable and full of humor. They are persistent, ambitious, and often successful, or so the story goes. But they can also be impulsive, inconsistent and easily distracted.

Is there any truth to these broad-brush character sketches? Or are they just comforting stories we tell about ourselves and each other to make sense of the messier reality of being human?

It’s easy to put these traditions aside as superstition. And yet, they endure. Even in the newsroom, we lean into this ritual. Horoscope columns still have devoted readers. Brands will print horse graphics and zodiac memes crowd our social media feeds. Around the world, people reach for any systems that offer some kind of pattern, some reassurance that personality, identity and fate can be categorized and maybe even predicted.

There’s no real evidence that the year you were born determines your fate, or that being a “horse year person” or a dragon or a rat has any real bearing on your personality. But maybe evidence isn’t the point. Maybe what we’re really looking for is a mirror — a language we can borrow to reflect on who we are, who we’ve been and who we might want to become.

In the telling and retelling, we come to see ourselves in these traits, even if they started out as simple jokes or passing remarks. A well-meaning comment from a friend — “Of course you’re so energetic, you’re a horse!” — can start to feel like a small self-prophecy, shaping how we see ourselves.

This year, it’s the Year of Horse and there’s already a sense of pressure in the air, as if we’re all supposed to leap out of the gate and charge ahead at full speed. But maybe what’s more important is to remember to set our own pace and not get swept up in the race. A new year is always a chance to pause, take a breath and renew our resolutions in a way that feels authentic, not just symbolic.

So whether or not you believe in the power of the zodiac, January offers a time to check in with ourselves. Call it tradition, call it psychology or just call it a fresh start — may the new year bring you energy, clarity and the freedom to enjoy the ride, at whatever speed feels right.

Kwon Mee-yoo is K-culture Desk editor of The Korea Times.

© The Korea Times