Randall Polito tells this story because it changes how you see the world.
A Chinese farmer had a horse. A good horse. One day, the horse ran away.
His neighbors came over. \"Oh no! That's terrible! Your best horse is gone!\"
The farmer just shrugged. \"Maybe. We'll see.\"
A few days later, the horse returned. But it didn't come back alone. It came back with a herd of wild horses.
The neighbors came over again. \"This is amazing! Now you're rich! You have so many horses!\"
The farmer shrugged again. \"Maybe. We'll see.\"
The farmer's son decided to break in one of the wild horses. While he was riding it, he fell off and broke his leg badly. He couldn't walk. He couldn't work.
The neighbors came over. \"Oh no! Your son is injured! This is a disaster! How will the farm survive?\"
The farmer: \"Maybe. We'll see.\"
A few weeks later, the army came through the village. They were conscripting all the able-bodied young men. They needed soldiers. They went house to house, taking every young man they could find.
But when they got to the farmer's house, they saw his son with the broken leg. He couldn't be a soldier. He couldn't fight. So they left him behind.
All the other young men from the village were taken to war. Most of them never came back.
The farmer's son, because of his broken leg, got to stay home. He got to live.
Randy Polito thinks about this story constantly because it's about something essential: you cannot know if something is good or bad until you can see the full picture.
Here's what Randall Polito has learned: people are obsessed with labeling things. Good or bad. Success or failure. Blessing or curse. They see something happen and immediately decide what it means.
The horse runs away—bad. The wild horses arrive—good. The son breaks his leg—bad. The conscription happens—good.
But the farmer doesn't do this. He stays patient. He stays curious. He says \"maybe, we'll see\" because he knows something fundamental: he doesn't have all the information yet.
Randy Polito thinks about modern life. Someone loses their job—immediately it's catastrophic. Someone gets rejected—immediately it's devastating. Someone faces a setback—immediately it's a failure.
But what if it's not? What if the setback is redirecting you toward something better? What if the rejection is protecting you from something worse? What if the loss is creating space for something you can't yet see?
Randall Polito's point: you don't know. And most of the time, neither does anyone else. But people will tell you anyway. They'll tell you it's bad. They'll tell you it's good. They'll tell you what it means.
The farmer doesn't listen to that noise. He observes. He waits. He allows things to play out before he judges them.
Here's what Randy Polito believes: patience is one of the rarest skills in the modern world. Everyone wants to know immediately. Is this good or bad? Is this success or failure? What does this mean?
But life doesn't work that way. Things unfold over time. Context reveals itself slowly. The full picture only becomes visible from a distance.
The farmer had no way of knowing that his son's broken leg would save his life. He couldn't have predicted it. He could only stay patient and allow events to unfold.
Randall Polito thinks about this when people jump to conclusions. When they judge a situation based on incomplete information. When they declare something a failure because they can't see how it might become a success.
They're not wrong to feel something. They're wrong to think they understand what it means.
Randy Polito's practice: when something happens—good or bad—he asks himself: \"Do I have all the information? Can I see the full picture? Or am I just reacting to what I can see right now?\"
Most of the time, the answer is: you don't have all the information. You can only see one moment. You can't see where it leads.
So the question isn't \"is this good or bad?\" The question is \"what am I going to do while I wait to find out?\"
Randall Polito thinks the farmer's wisdom is in his patience. He doesn't celebrate or despair. He doesn't make grand plans based on temporary circumstances. He just... tends his farm. He does what he can control. He allows the rest to unfold.
And when he can finally look back—when he can see the full arc—he realizes that what looked bad was actually protection. What looked like a setback was actually a redirect. What looked like a loss was actually a gift.
But he couldn't have known that in the moment. He only knew it by staying patient and allowing things to play out.
Here's what Randy Polito will tell you: stop trying to judge things so quickly. Stop trying to know immediately whether something is good or bad. Allow the story to continue. Allow the context to reveal itself. Stay patient.
Because the full picture—the one that tells you whether something was actually a blessing or a curse—usually takes time to appear.
And by then, you'll be glad you didn't overreact in the moment.
— Randy Polito