Reflections on The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse

I didn’t expect to cry. I thought I was opening a book — a children's book, even — but I was opening something much deeper. A window, maybe. Or a mirror.

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy is deceptively simple. With sparse words and ink sketches that look as though they floated out of someone’s quiet afternoon thoughts, it carries more wisdom and gentleness than many full novels. It’s not about a grand plot or a dazzling twist. It’s about four souls — a boy, a cake-loving mole, a quiet fox, and a kind horse — wandering together through life, asking questions and answering them with honesty and care.

What struck me most was the stillness of it all. The book doesn’t rush. It breathes. It invites you to breathe too. In a world that shouts for our attention, this book whispers. And in that whisper are truths that feel like warm tea on a cold day.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”“Kind,” said the boy.

That one sentence. That’s when I felt it. The quiet ache in my chest. The way we’re taught to chase success, achievement, status — and how rarely we’re told that kindness is enough. That kindness is, in fact, everything.

Each character brings their own lessons. The mole, with his craving for cake and his boundless curiosity, reminds us of the childlike wonder we lose along the way. The fox, silent and scarred, teaches us the strength of stillness and trust. And the horse — oh, the horse — he teaches us that our vulnerability is not our weakness, but our superpower.

“Asking for help isn't giving up," said the horse. "It's refusing to give up.”

We actually did a podcast episode about this book, thinking it would be a sweet, short read to reflect on. But what surprised us — and kind of blew our minds — was how much symbolism we found tucked between the pages. What started as a cozy conversation turned into something much deeper. The book is gentle, yes, but it's also layered.

We even recorded a second episode diving into the "woo woo" side of things — the metaphors, the spiritual threads, the archetypes hiding in plain sight. We didn’t expect to find so much richness in such a minimalist book. But we did. And honestly, it made us love it even more.

Reading this book felt like having someone take my hand and say, “You’re okay. Just as you are.” And I think we all need that sometimes.

If you haven’t read it, I hope you will. Slowly. Preferably with a blanket and a quiet evening. Let it speak to the part of you that’s tired. Let it remind you of the beauty in being soft, in being real, in being kind.

And maybe, like us, you’ll close it feeling just a little more human — and a little more connected to something bigger.