Why freedom needs structure to truly thrive

While reading through the wonderful series, The Cazalet Chronicles, by Elizabeth Jane Howard, I have come across so many pithy observations, often hidden in throwaway asides, so that you almost don't notice them. But then they percolate in the mind.

One in particular has been with me for days, and was reinforced by what went on at our local swimming pool this morning – all will be revealed shortly.

In the volume dealing with the 1950s, Rachel, one of the main characters, has recently witnessed her mother's death. Peaceful, companionable, all done as it should be, and then, along with the sadness, the feeling, 'What shall I do now?' After a lifetime of looking after her family and never putting herself first, she realises that she now faces what feels like a terrible freedom.

She reflects on something she heard a child say recently; this child goes to one of those modern schools where education is viewed more as an unfolding; there is no set curriculum; the children are encouraged to follow their interests and learn what they feel they need to explore at that moment. It sounds wonderful. And yet, this child asks,

Must we always do what we like?

There are so many layers here. You can sense the child's slight puzzlement - aren't the grownups supposed to tell me what to do, in this strange world in which I find myself? How do I know what to do? There is so much that I could do, that I'm weary with the effort of trying to work out what that is. What do I really have to do? And how do I know?

Freedom is one of those wonderful words where we all want it and we think we know what it means, but when we analyse it, we find a paradox. Too much freedom can lead to confusion, like this child. And anyone who has been bereaved after being a carer, as I was, for a long time, knows, quite aside from the intense grief itself, the discomfort of no longer having a role, of knowing what to do, of making a difference. It all takes a lot of personal working out.

So the thought was coming up in me again that freedom requires structure. To make it all up, in every moment of the day, what we are going to do, or even be, takes far too much mental energy. If we could really do anything, it's likely we'll do nothing.

When swimming the other morning at our local pool, I noticed they had taken the ropes out that divide the lanes. Usually, it's clear that there are three main lanes, with the middle one for fast swimmers and the others for slowcoaches like me. In each of these three lanes, there is a stripe down the bottom of the pool to delineate two lanes within each, and you are supposed to go in a circular direction in each one. That generally works well, and most people stick to the 'rules'. I wrote about that another time.

But this morning - oh dear me - the ropes weren't there. Apparently they need replacing. There were notices at each end of the pool enjoining us to... Swim in straight lines. Be aware of other swimmers. Don't swim on your back, please, (I could almost hear, and eat your greens, wash behind your ears…).

It was chaos.

One lady had to stick to the side of the pool due to recent surgery, so people were swimming respectfully around her. So far, so good. But this involved straying into the fast lane, which wouldn't usually be possible because of the ropes. 

The fast ones in Lycra didn't like it. There were lots of pointed looks and the occasional comment.

Forgive the pun, but it really did put us all off our strokes. Clearly, we need ropes! And then we can be free in the water.

Fortunately, within two days, there were new ropes and everybody swam much better, without getting in each other’s way.

This raises the question - what structures do we really need in our lives, to save our energies for more worthwhile things, and in order to be free? What do you really need? Coaching can help you work this out, and I’d love to hear what you think.