I have always considered freedom to be a life of a free thinker, a rennaisance man that defies a label or a stereotype that is far more than a loner Clint Eastwood type of character who lives life with an independent view; and to rebel at the sight of things we do not agree with. Such rebelliousness is so attractive and yet it seems so out-dated in a world today where principally we are cattle herded, positioned, analyzed for marketing potential, defined by our consumer purchases, and where we can even turn a natural gathering such as Woodstock into a commercial gathering that turns freedom into a tidy and nice conspicious consumption product – or in other words freedom transmutes into being a collective borg of wanderers in a wondering world.
Randomness is not a freedom, just as our lives can be tethered to a pole or imprisoned by our own thinking, the idea that we can wander off in any direction or place we care to choose is tantamount to being lost in space. While the whole idea of what I am thinking out aloud here today is based on the idea of a “Man in a Womb” at least I know that the full term of this thinking is no more than 270 days or at least even earlier if it is self-evident that intelligence or undue social surgery requires me to abort this idea.
I am just as much a collector of things as the next woman or man in our world, or just as George Carlin suggests in his astute standup observation, this life about STUFF. Freedom isn’t about collecting and accumulating, it is about letting go, it is about acceptance about the most challenging parts of our life, it is being who we should be rather than avoiding what we don’t want to be. It isn’t about dependency and certainty, but the attainment of a fearless spirit which requires us to embrace something beyond the mortal coil that we are. Why would I consider the act of floating around randomly in my universe as a good thing, unless I have consciously chosen immaturity as a deliberate choice. And if that is the case then that isn’t freedom, it is unmitigated cowardice.
To seek to live my life beyond its past random manner is of critical importance, that much I am aware of and it is only critical in that I have spent the better part of a decade being a “free thinker” trying simply to get to this level of awareness. Now I have, will I have the courage to execute and make promise a profitable opportunity? In other words what is it that I am going to do now that I know what it is I know. There is no great shakes to stir and mix about being free, not when one is drinking life from a fire hose rather than elevate ones senses beyond simply sensory gratification. How long will I continue to choose to be a random thing, carelessly drifting between one point of nowhere to another, when there is a certain order to life that starts to come into view when one has begun to switch off the illusions or images of life.
Why am I spending the first paragraph pointing my critical little finger at what’s wrong with the world, as if I am its self-appointed caretaker. Even if I could be such a caretaker, that would require me to live an eternal existence and I am acutely aware that no such contract exists with my own life. This is all I have been given and all I have got, so I intellectually I understand that i need to cease this randomness, and to find some order – for the worst of dependence is believing in the myth of independence, but the best of interdependence is more than discovering but creating order utilizing what is one’s calling or mark in life. Whether that translates into supernal reality is the only freedom that is I need to open up with deeper and active consideration, the rest is no business of mine.