The Importance of Details
I watched a man attempting to work with a horse. The horse was young. She knew nothing about humans riding her but the mare was a good sport & she was with a couple of herd mates who were calm & going along with the humans, so the little filly did too. The man had no idea what a gem he had in the filly. Now Grandpa made things look easy. I'd like to think I did too but my ego isn't that great. But I was also quite a bit younger than the man which makes it hard for some to take advice or instructions from a 'kid'. So all manner of mistakes were made with the little mare. I watched this for a few rides. Grandpa made attempts to assist but alas, the man would not listen.
Sadly the day came when the little filly grew tired of trying to get along with this impossible man. She didn't understand him . He certainly wasn't listening to the filly. No matter what Grandpa or I tried the man had a head like concrete and was not open to learning. Which meant the little filly would continue to grow in the wrong direction.
I went to visit Grandpa in his home. It was nearing midnight and we talked of the man and the filly for more than an hour. Back then I was still in school. It bothered us both to see what was happening.
Grandpa sat for a moment in his chair and, seemingly out of the blue, asked, "When you go to school, how do you know what to do?"
I looked at him with a puzzled look on my face. It was a weird question to my young mind. "Grandpa, I've been going to school for a lot of years. I just go through the doors, go to my locker, put books up, get books out, lock up my locker and go to my first class."
"Sounds about right," he responds with a nod of the head. "But how did you learn to do all that? How did you learn that this was what you needed to do?"
It was my turn to sit there, to think long and hard before I answered. I remember how scary my first day of kindergarten was. The smells, the sounds were all unfamiliar. My home was fairly quiet. My first classroom was noisy and rowdy. The kids in the classroom were doing things that was never okay in my home. We had to learn which desk was ours, when we could leave that desk. We had to learn what was expected of us.
I shared this with Grandpa.
He nodded his head, looking at the fire light flickering in the stove. "What next?"
I was kind of on a roll at that point. I shared with him that each year built on the previous one & in junior high we had to learn to navigate the halls. We were taught that rather than be in one class room all day, at each hour we would go to different classrooms. So by the time I was fifteen, I was navigating the halls of my school like a pro.
I'd learned something else too in those years with Grandpa. This discussion of my school related to the young filly & the blockheaded man. Sometimes I'm a pretty good student. It surprises even me.
"His problem with the filly is she didn't get to go to kindergarten, she didn't get grade school or junior high. The man assumes he just does what he does without teaching her those formative lessons. So rather than learn, understand, grow together... he's offending her."
Had it not been such a sad situation for the filly, there would have been a twinkle in his eye as he nodded his head but there was a hint of a smile. Even in the worst of times Grandpa was a man who was always pleased when his student got it right.
Sadly the filly didn't get her kindergarten, her grade school or her junior high. She was later sold & hopefully the person who got her made up for her time with the blockhead. It was the deepest level of example of why the small details are important. As an adult, I could not imagine going to a new job, in a field I had no prior experience & being expected to just know what to do. So no matter what level you are in horsemanship, remember the lesson of the Filly and the blockhead. Don't be a blockhead. Your horse's future and your happiness as a team depends on you putting a priority on the little details it takes to teach, so that you can build that horse's skills & knowledge to a level where that horse doesn't view you as a source of annoyance.
That filly would have agreed with whoever said "the devil's in the details". Without those early details there cannot be harmony and unity. If you're not striving for harmony, unity, partnership with the horse... what's the point?
Sadly the day came when the little filly grew tired of trying to get along with this impossible man. She didn't understand him . He certainly wasn't listening to the filly. No matter what Grandpa or I tried the man had a head like concrete and was not open to learning. Which meant the little filly would continue to grow in the wrong direction.
I went to visit Grandpa in his home. It was nearing midnight and we talked of the man and the filly for more than an hour. Back then I was still in school. It bothered us both to see what was happening.
Grandpa sat for a moment in his chair and, seemingly out of the blue, asked, "When you go to school, how do you know what to do?"
I looked at him with a puzzled look on my face. It was a weird question to my young mind. "Grandpa, I've been going to school for a lot of years. I just go through the doors, go to my locker, put books up, get books out, lock up my locker and go to my first class."
"Sounds about right," he responds with a nod of the head. "But how did you learn to do all that? How did you learn that this was what you needed to do?"
It was my turn to sit there, to think long and hard before I answered. I remember how scary my first day of kindergarten was. The smells, the sounds were all unfamiliar. My home was fairly quiet. My first classroom was noisy and rowdy. The kids in the classroom were doing things that was never okay in my home. We had to learn which desk was ours, when we could leave that desk. We had to learn what was expected of us.
I shared this with Grandpa.
He nodded his head, looking at the fire light flickering in the stove. "What next?"
I was kind of on a roll at that point. I shared with him that each year built on the previous one & in junior high we had to learn to navigate the halls. We were taught that rather than be in one class room all day, at each hour we would go to different classrooms. So by the time I was fifteen, I was navigating the halls of my school like a pro.
I'd learned something else too in those years with Grandpa. This discussion of my school related to the young filly & the blockheaded man. Sometimes I'm a pretty good student. It surprises even me.
"His problem with the filly is she didn't get to go to kindergarten, she didn't get grade school or junior high. The man assumes he just does what he does without teaching her those formative lessons. So rather than learn, understand, grow together... he's offending her."
Had it not been such a sad situation for the filly, there would have been a twinkle in his eye as he nodded his head but there was a hint of a smile. Even in the worst of times Grandpa was a man who was always pleased when his student got it right.
Sadly the filly didn't get her kindergarten, her grade school or her junior high. She was later sold & hopefully the person who got her made up for her time with the blockhead. It was the deepest level of example of why the small details are important. As an adult, I could not imagine going to a new job, in a field I had no prior experience & being expected to just know what to do. So no matter what level you are in horsemanship, remember the lesson of the Filly and the blockhead. Don't be a blockhead. Your horse's future and your happiness as a team depends on you putting a priority on the little details it takes to teach, so that you can build that horse's skills & knowledge to a level where that horse doesn't view you as a source of annoyance.
That filly would have agreed with whoever said "the devil's in the details". Without those early details there cannot be harmony and unity. If you're not striving for harmony, unity, partnership with the horse... what's the point?