I knew nothing of a horse named Secretariat until two days ago.Seabiscuit, yes, but I did not know about this big red thoroughbred, apparently the greatest race horse of all time. Secretariat ran the fastest 1.5 miles in the history of America and he did it with the widest margin ahead of his nearest challenger -- 31 lengths to be exact.
But this horse was brought to my attention for a different reason. The 'Big Red' had no need for the riding crop: no sharp loud sound or horse whip to scare him to motion. Just a primal desire to let loose the wild ancestry in his blood and to ride -- no, fly -- like the wind.
Last week, I wrote about how I needed structure to keep writing. In my own words, I said I need 'the whip-lashing, nail-biting, heart-pumping, bed-tossing tyranny of a Structure.' A couple of my dear friends felt I was being hard on myself (again). The legendary horse wasn't coerced and bullied into reaching the finish line, she said. I should go where the energy of the day brings me, another suggested.
They're both probably right.
But strangely enough, there's comfort in the safe, tight swaddle of a structure. I've always believed you are your most creative when you have parameters to work within -- anyone can be creative where the sky's the limit. But, I think I understand the truism better now. Within the 'limitations' of a discipline, my energy and creativity is encased; it may not ride with the wind yet but it doesn't dissipate and evaporate into thin, undefined air either.
In the safe cocoon of discipline, creative energy is sheathed and grounded. And where there is grounding, there is manifestation.
Plus, Secretariat was not without an indefatigable trainer who was paid to bridle the raw energy and channel it into a vapor trail of adrenaline during the races.
Perhaps it was the structure of this training -- that gave Secretariat his wings.
