Her name was Blaze, and she was a thoroughbred racehorse. Today, she stood against a tall white fence and looked towards the sunbaked plains that lay ahead. A mixture of dry heat and pending cold swirled together to form whispering breeze that weaved its way through small islands of grass and warm earth. Softly shaped canyons stretched eastwards, and wild mustangs painted the horizon with trails of reddish dust. To her right stood a small acorn. And behind her—dressed in white—was the place where she lived.
Blaze belonged to a prestigious class of racehorses. She enjoyed yummy apples and fresh oats and even receive daily grooming’s. Sadly though, the glamor of fancy racing routines and shiny facilities seemed empty to her. The plastic fences that shaped her running ovels didn’t grant her full expression. Similarly, the invisible constraints of rules and expectations added to this feeling of confinement. Despite a constraining environment, however, she never stopped dreaming. Every evening, after training, she stood by the tall white fence and watched as wild horses spread trails of dust across a colorful sky.
One day, as Blaze peered over the tall white fence, she noticed an acorn that lay by its side.
“What a strange place for an Acorn” thought Blaze.
Then she spoke aloud, “Mr. Acorn” Said blaze “What are you doing in this dry land?”
The acorn was small, and his voice quiet. So, Blaze lowered her head and listened carefully to the tiny voice.
“I’m looking for a place to burrow my roots” whispered the acorn.
“Hmmm, And tell me then” inquired Blaze “what’s so important about roots?”
“Roots are important…well, because they keep me strong, and they remind me where I come from.”
Blaze whinnied and neighed, and the acorn continued his speech:
“Roots are important for everyone…You, too, have roots,” said the small tree. “Your roots run with the mustangs.”
Blaze turned her head to the horizon and echoed the words of the acorn.
“Well then” said Blaze with a pondering posture, “how might I become wild and free, like my roots?”
“I can show you how.” Replied the small tree
Blaze was curiously confused as to what a small acorn could offer her. Nevertheless, she lowered her head and prodded the small seed to say more.
“If you want to be free” continued the acorn. “You must bring me water every day. Then I will use the water to grow strong and I will spread my branches over this fence. And once my branches are sturdy you can walk straight over this tall white fence.”
Blaze had her doubts about the acorns plan, however, her curiosity exceeded them. From that day forwards, the little oak drank as much water as his roots could hold.
One day, and to Blazes surprise, the outlines of bridge began to appear.
With plenty of sun and water and a persistent root, the path to freedom grew stronger and more distinct. Within a few short seasons, an organic path bridged the way to freedom. Blaze whinnied and neighed in celebration and marched over the tree grown bridge. Before Blaze trotted off, she turned one last time to thank her friend.
“I will not forget you, kind oak.” Said the wild horse.
Then she turned to the open plains and did what she loved most—to run wild and free. And This time, as she ran, there were no watchers and no rules and no trophies. And this time she ran wilder and faster than ever before.
Inside the Mind 