A friend I have known for many years asked me recently how much does the earth weigh? I thought for a moment and said it depends, but it can weigh almost zero. This seemed impossible to my friend. He expressed his disbelief with colourful language. I quickly did some calculations using Newton’s equation and told him that the earth had a mass of approximately 5,900,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 kg (23 zeros), but that it weighed almost nothing. I explained that mass was constant (although this is not strictly true because the earth has a net loss of nearly 50,000 tons a year in mass), but that weight varied depending on gravity. But no matter what argument of logic I offered, my friend could not get pass the idea that since everything on, in and around the earth weighed something, therefore the earth must weigh the sum total of all those things added together. So I was unable to persuade my friend over to my side.
This got me thinking about the concept of persuasion. As a teacher, my working life is targeted to persuading people to my way of thinking about horses and horsemanship. I do this either by presenting my views and demonstrating the positive results they produce or by discussing the flaws of alternative ideas. Most of the time it is a mixture of both.
This seems to work pretty well for the most part, but from time to time I come across people at clinics who seem impervious to my powers of persuasion. They understand what I am saying. They see the results in their horses. But it doesn’t appear to be enough to change their mind. Why is this? I mean I could understand their dogged refusal to change their views if they didn’t understand what I was saying or they found a hole in the logic or their horse became more screwed up when I worked with it. But this is almost never the case. So what is getting in the way of change for the human? I don’t seem to have any problem changing the horse’s thought, but it is sometimes not so easy when it comes to changing the owner’s ideas.
I think part of it is history. We are often emotionally invested in what we do because we have been doing it for so long. I think this is linked to our ego and self-esteem and reluctance to admit to ourselves (and the world) that we are not as clever or talented as we thought we were. We don’t want to be so vulnerable. This is especially true for people who are professional horse people.
A lady came to a clinic that struggled to get her horse to slow down. I coached on her for a while, then suddenly she stopped her horse and looked at me with a frustrated expression and stress in her voice. “You’re telling me that everything I have been doing for the last 30 years is wrong.” My reply was, “No. I’m not telling you that. Your horse is telling you that.” She did not return the next day. Her reluctance to let go of her ego was stronger than her desire to listen to her horse.
Another obstacle can be that we cling strongest to the views and beliefs that we acquired in our early education. Often the first guru that made sense to us is the one whose teaching we have the strongest faith in and we are reluctant to let go of it irrespective of the merit of ideas we encounter down the road. We put so much faith in their infallibility that it becomes impossible to question their teaching. I think probably every trainer and teacher have a small number of followers like that. We are generally okay about taking on ideas that a consistent with the lessons of our teachers, but rarely do we embrace ideas that are counter to them.
About 4 years ago I agreed to a request from a young woman living in Europe to come and be a working pupil with me in Australia. I knew immediately it was a bad idea when she arrived and told me that she had been working with a certain trainer that she really liked and she would not be okay with anything I might say or have her do that was not consistent with what she had learned from him. I said to her that I didn’t know her trainer, but that she made a mistake coming all the way from Europe to Australia in the hope of learning from me but placing limitations on what she would listen to and what she wouldn’t. Needless to say, she did not have a very satisfying visit.
Another possible explanation for why occasionally I meet an owner whose ideas I can’t seem to shift is a personality conflict. As far-fetched as I am sure you think it is, some people just don’t like me. Whether it is my style of presentation or my corny jokes or my push for them to try harder or the intimidation of my over powering good looks, I don’t know. But it is a fact of life that when somebody has a personality that grates on us, we tend not to embrace their ideas very much. I can think of a handful of people who feel that way and have bad mouth me to anybody who will listen. Anything I say or do causes them to have an instant opposition reflex.
An example of this happened some years back. One person who didn’t like me for personal reasons posted on an internet forum that I was responsible for her horse breaking its hip when it tried to jump out of an arena. The only problem was that I had never met her horse and the whole event had never happened. Nevertheless, the story spread quickly.
I certainly don’t think or believe that I am the teacher or horseman for everybody. I know that every trainer and clinician has their fans and their detractors irrespective of their ability. So I want to be clear. I don’t have a problem with people who don’t like me and are not drawn to my work. That’s not the problem.
The point of this essay is to encourage people to really look at themselves and their reasons for both loving and hating the philosophy and methods of any trainer or clinician they meet. Make sure your reasons are true and honest and not based on irrational bias or personal vulnerabilities. Our horses deserve the best we can possibly offer them and that means we really should put aside our personal flaws and prejudices and consider everything we learn with an impartiality that is targeted towards what is best for our horse. Let go of the ego.