When we stop trying to be the best horse.

A Zen story that gently unravels our need to compare — and helps us meet ourselves where we are.

2/9/20262 min read

a group of horses standing on a hill
a group of horses standing on a hill

In his book Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, Zen master Shunryu Suzuki approaches the question of fast and slow learners through the image of four horses.

“In our scriptures, it is said that there are four kinds of horses: excellent ones, good ones, poor ones, and bad ones. The best horse will run slow and fast, right and left, at the driver’s will, before it sees the shadow of the whip; the second best will run as well as the first one, just before the whip reaches its skin; the third one will run when it feels pain on its body; the fourth will run after the pain penetrates to the marrow of its bones. You can imagine how difficult it is for the fourth one to learn to run.”

One of the insights Suzuki offers in this story is about our constant need to compare ourselves to others.

“When we hear this story, almost all of us want to be the best horse. If it is impossible to be the best one, we want to be the second best”, he says. I know this pattern well in myself — the tug toward being the ‘best horse’.

But Suzuki gently dismantles this whole idea. The ‘excellent’ horse may never develop real depth of learning because it doesn’t have to work hard. The ‘poor’ horse on the other hand feels deeply and embodies the learning through discomfort and struggle. The best horse may be the worst horse, according to Suzuki, and the worst horse may be the best.

In coaching, comparison is one of the most common obstacles to growth. We feel that we should be better or different - more successful, more confident…more something. We measure ourselves against others or some imagined ‘best’ version of ourselves, and we miss out on the splendid truth of who we are, right here, right now.

Coaching invites us to come back to ourselves and start from where we are.

When we stop trying to be the best horse, we start to notice what’s actually happening - what’s real – our own needs, patterns, and ways of learning. We discover our own path and our own pace.

It becomes simply about taking the next step that’s right for us. And when we do – without judgment or comparison – the way often opens. Learning becomes less about performance and more about showing up authentically in the world.

Want a nudge when the next Tiny Horse post arrives? Add your email — new posts and small notes, never a stampede.