Freedom feels elusive for me. Sure, as an American, I live in the “Land of the Free.” It’s a free world. My folks no longer hold the keys to my freedom; their parental prison long ago clanged closed and the rusted chains were tossed away. I drive wherever I want, eat what I want, when I want, my time is my own, my choices are mine—all of them.
That’s freedom, right?
Well, yes … and No.
It’s illusion. A dream. A pretend portrayal of a perfect harmonious happy life. My freedom is a big fat lie. Why?
It’s not only the bills to pay, the chores to chug through, or the deadlines, appointments, decisions, and daily duties. It’s not the rituals of correctness, the obligations to others, the pets, the plants, or the constantly interrupted plans.
I won’t blame God, the Universe, calamitous weather, uncounted calories, or karma.
A free spirit who feels that freedom is as unidentifiable as a diamond-encrusted unicorn.
Freedom is forgetting. I can’t do that. Freedom is an exercise in detachment. I can’t do that either. Freedom is forward-thinking about future’s fortune. Nope … can’t do that either; too stuck in the sludge of missed opportunities.
The peculiar mind that is mine, mires itself in regret, remorse, rumination, and the dreaded resentment; mostly about wrongs of others or wrongs I can’t right about myself.
This is not a pity party, and I don’t want to bother you with my pathology.
Rather, it is a reminder to you, dear readers, that forgetting is freedom. Letting Go is bliss. Mediocrity also means freedom. Getting lost finds freedom. Good enough is good enough.
When you strive to be the biggest, best, brightest, or when you beat everyone else to get to the front of the line, remember what I’ve told you, because to be the first is to be the last. Remember that the top and the front and the first and the finest have little to do with freedom.
Freedom is simple. Freedom is not a struggle. Freedom is Faith and Love and Joy. No cost; no competition; no keeping score; no pent up pain.
Touch your chest and feel your heart beat. It’s not free. It’s on a schedule. Miss too many beats, and you will die. Feel your lungs expand in fullness with air that feels free, but sometimes there’s not enough, and then what? You gasp to get more, before your brain dips dizzily into desperation. Even our bodies are at the mercy of an agenda and appropriate attention.
Watch a bird fly. At its highest and fastest, its wings will stop and it will still soar forward and free. It will land when and where it wants to land.
That, my friends, is freedom.