Judge not...

I've always said that you can learn something from anyone when it comes to riding (or horsemanship in general), whether it is what to do or what not to do. I didn't truly understand the depth of it until I became older and matured a little. The truth is, from my teens to my mid-twenties I had the mentality that I was right and the majority of people were wrong (obviously there were still a lot of trainers and clinicians that I had a lot of respect for). I was cocky and arrogant. Riding came so easily to me that I had no tolerance for people who just couldn't figure it out. I was told how talented I was quite often and I believed it. The things they were doing wrong would seriously annoy the hell out of me. I'd wonder how they could try and fail so miserably over and over again without giving up. Why did they keep going?

Then life happened. I got older. I hurt my neck. The work at the racetrack started to take a toll. I began to hurt everywhere and was completely drained. Constantly. Riding was no longer so easy for me. I almost gave up, thinking that I will never be as good as I should be. For about three years, I got very little accomplished when it came to riding and that frustrated me even more. There were a few spurts where I would be all into it and then I just wouldn't be anymore. The frustration was an evil voice nagging that I just couldn't do it, I would never be any good. I should just throw in the towel.

I began to have a new respect for the people that I could never understand before. In the time I was having my little pity party, they advanced. Some more than others, but they all improved. I didn't. What didn't come naturally was made up for with determination, education, and consistency. I began to understand that talent was nothing without the attributes that these people possessed. They had heart. Excuses didn't come out of their mouths. These riders kept at it for all of the right reasons: the love and challenge of the sport. At the end of the day, that trumps everything.

Over time, the riders that I was so busy being annoyed at in my youth became my inspiration. If they could do it, then I could too by following their example. Riding isn't as easy for me anymore, but that doesn't mean I can't get where I want to go. Even if I fail, at least I won't look back and have regrets. It won't be because I gave up.

With that revelation, I see and hear the younger me all over the place through other people. Do this, do that people! Why can't you do this or that? Here, I will write a post on a blog or some social media site to complain about how ridiculous and annoying it is when someone doesn't/can't do this or that. Or I'll just talk very loudly about the mistakes that so many riders make hoping you will overhear and get it. Maybe if I rant and rave enough it will get through your thick skull. Ugh! This drives me crazy, that drives me crazy.

My question is: Why? Why do we even care (with the exception of someone doing something so detrimental that it's bordering on abuse)? How is it that we find someone else's mistakes so offensive? What entitles us to suddenly become a person's instructor or judge so easily? Does how someone else rides affect our own riding? No, so what's the problem? Wouldn't our time be better spent worrying about our own education towards advancement?

Now, I realize in the horse world that there are wars between people. Jealousy, fights, rivalry, etc. contribute to the nasty comments and judging. I'm not talking about those situations. What I'm referring to is when we get so upset over a person's riding when they have never done anything to us or we don't even know them. What is it that we truly find so intolerable? Why do we feel the need to profess our own expertise so badly?

I can see a professional having the right to express their opinion, but the truly good ones don't usually concern themselves with someone's skills unless they are paid to. They don't feel a need to prove their expertise or put others below them. They are where they are and they are confident in that.

Food for thought.