Freedom from you

Freedom is a light at the end of the dark, dingy tunnel that is our lives. Human affliction is the ceaseless need to get to the light.

The few that make it wet their pants, lose their purpose and fall into bottomless lunacy. They run back into the tunnel — back into the habitual darkness. Because procrastinating freedom keeps our hope alive; the proverbial darkness you need to see the light.

Our want from freedom is that of being free from. It’s the struggle to escape the dizzying fact that, in spite everything handed down to us, we prefer to live by avoiding one elemental truth: we are free to.

Because knowing that means taking responsibility.

It means discomfort.

It means work.

And that all the stuff we want to be free from.

We want an impeding busy-ness. Busy keeps you from fronting questions of meaning or purpose. It is the 21st-century colonialism. Your life is one long pipe dream — the desire to be someplace else, sometime else, all the time. It’s one thing to be a slave to someone else’s ambitions, but to be a slave to your own is the new-age luxury, lunacy.

Your struggle for worth has become your worthy struggle.

You fall into the trap to escape the trap — over and over and over again.

Our idea of freedom now is being able to do the most outlandish shit. Skydive in your underpants. Pee on your boss’s 100% textured organic cotton car-seats. Take to social media only to ask the world to screw off. That’s one way to find out what you are capable of, sure, but that’s also how you find out you are a psychopath.

All regrets have one thing in common: they postpone the freedom to be more for the freedom from doing more. The freedom paradox that’s escaped us is that it’s only when you are free to do nothing are you free to do something.

You are at the mercy of one of the oldest contraptions whose sole purpose to measure the efficiency of other contraptions: the clock. Real freedom is the day when you are not pulled apart by priorities, plans, and schedules manufactured by the hopeless urgency of the clock. Because here’s a rather morbid truth: the clock doesn’t give a shit about how long you live. Like the birds and trees, it goes on functioning despite your traceless passage through life.

Your whole life has become a means to an end. Finding meaning has become that end. You mistook the journey for the destination.
Salvation is the realization that you are not in a tunnel. That, in fact, you have been walking with your eyes closed. You are the blind man with a lamp. Seen, yet unseeing.

We go on doing something in order to become free from doing something else. This kind of slavery is both cyclical and self-imposed. Freeing yourself from this cycle of becoming free from the crescendo of crap will be your greatest unlearning.

Because what catastrophe it would be to finally open your eyes and realize the game’s over. That,

everyone’s gone home;

the points you accumulated can’t go with you;

your lamp has gone off;

Only one hope remains: you are free to begin all over again.

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