Thursday, April 24, 2008

Peregrination #2

During the session on metaphor (described in the endless post below), we were given 5 minutes to write down a description of our own writing metaphor. Mine, as I said, surprised me. I’ve never really thought about it before and THIS is the first thing that pops into my mind? I’m going to include it here just as it appears in my notes. It wanders. It gets convoluted. It has bad punctuation. You are warned.

****************************************************

Training a wild horse:
I can see all these stunning, gorgeous ideas/horses in the distance. They race around, wild, manes cascading behind them, nostrils flaring, full of ancient power and young arrogance. I know others have captured them in the past or at least those like them. But now it’s my turn. I’m sure I haven’t learned enough, don’t know the right things to capture them and not destroy them in the attempt.

No, that’s not exactly it. I know I can catch one. I can catch twenty. (Some days they crowd around begging to be caught). And I can get them into the corral of my mind and close the gate and be proud of myself for bringing this wild beauty off the prairie. But I won’t because my admiration and pride is just a mask for my fear, the thing that holds me back from going out and doing the part I know how to do — once I have them captured, what do I do then?

If I just let them run, angry and magnificent even behind a fence, they’re wasted. Worse than useless. And I’m afraid they’ll die there. Will that slow death be any better than a quick and bloody breaking if I try to train them and can’t get it right (and I’m sure I can’t)?

I know what’s required. I have to take them one at a time and patiently train them. I have to gain their trust, learn their language, and figure out their individual quirks. So much patience is required, so many setbacks, so many times I think I’m teaching them the right thing only to realize they’ve learned something totally different…sometimes better, sometimes far worse.

At the end, if I’ve conquered both my fear and theirs, I have something beautiful. No less so because they’re now trained, because their essence, their wildness, is still apparent in every line of their bodies. Though restrained, there is still a power underneath, that quality that first attracted me. It’s just that, through my work, through my specific muse, I’ve been able to bring that power to hand where it can be encountered and wondered at and understood.

No comments: