08/16/2024
Written by Matthew T. Smith
SHAVINGS. NOT THE RAZOR KIND.
I'm revisiting a favorite topic today. Sorry.
Previous musings about cleaning stalls dealt with the peace we often experience with a pick in our hands – the pleasant solitude and the quiet, almost meditative state we reach while alone with our thoughts (and in close company with dust and manure). Much was made of all the Zen things going on between your ears, neurons firing in the dark gray wrinkles of your brain, all while your trusty pick pokes through mounds of soil and shavings.
Lately, though, I'm recognizing something about stall work that's more external than internal. By that, I mean it's not just what you learn about yourself while picking stalls, but rather what others are hopefully learning about you.
First off, a willingness to clean your horse's stall speaks volumes about someone, all by itself. I suppose if I knew nothing else about you, that would be enough.
But *how* you actually go about filling a muck bucket really does tell the world more than you think.
It reveals your approach to work, especially "unpleasant" work (because, truthfully, this particular job isn't everybody's cup of tea). It also gives unmistakable clues about how you balance the worth of your time versus the importance of a chore.
Stall work is, of course, an opportunity to show pride in chores. But it's also a chance for the horse owner to show pride in ownership.
It reveals your attention to detail, on the one hand, and your efficiency, on the other. It shows your ability to recognize – and quietly honor – the importance of small jobs done well.
It shows your willingness to embrace humility. And, best of all, it shows your resolve to apply genuine care to modest tasks easily dismissed or avoided by others.
Your work ethic while ankle-deep in pine and poo tells others how much you value a job well done. And, more importantly, you're also telling them whether you respect the universal truth that most jobs in the horse world aren't measured against the clock on the wall but, rather, they "take as long as they take."
This quiet time in the stall also reveals how you share space with your horse, assuming you are lucky enough to enjoy her "help" while cleaning (and further assuming you are wise enough to appreciate it). It's a chance for each of you to express both mutual respect and mutual gratitude in close quarters, sharing moments where time slows down and the outside world is kept at arm's length.
People come to the barn for many different reasons. But, if you only show up to ride and go home, you are probably missing out on the heart and soul of horse ownership. Putting the spurs away, pulling on some muck boots, and picking through a pile of shavings could very well be the best way to experience that heart and soul. And, if you let it, it's a darned good way to share the best part of yourself with your barn mates.
