Freedom: The Soul Finally Animated

For a good friend, forever

Freedom shines a light unto ourselves. It sparks a divine madness, a jocular creativity, a repose that can fully replenish. Without our freedom what in fact do we have? Indeed without our freedom what can we have but the stale husk of things? A frail shell peeled off, thin wisps loose upon the wind.

Many consider freedom to be a vagary, a wandering gypsy, or some reckless juvenile, but in fact it is only through freedom that we obtain power,  responsibility, and gentle care. For all those who oppress or revile, all those who obsess or control, they are in fact the ones enslaved. Those that are bound and chained often flail and suffer the most violently. They are prisoners to their own imprisonment. Only shall the free be peaceful, wise, observant.

We are forever strung about like monkeys swinging from limb to knotted limb in a massive, wild jungle. There is no end to our distractions, our divergences, worries and concerns. We are always bound, even by the act of breathing, to bodies, forms, and limitations. But life carries us away anyway. We are the ones who decide, we are the ones in control, those that are charged to steer and navigate. Too often life seems to ensnare us, to hold us back, and limit our wider expanse. But in truth we alone hold back our wings. It is only by our own muscles and our efforts alone that we may unfurl whatever angelic feathers we possess. Only we are free to let them loose like white sails flapping crisp in the ocean wind. All of life seems to finally amount to a revelation of our own divine radiance. It is a mystery we can sense pulsating deep within. A heartbeat in syncopation with all life. Or perhaps instead we are the extremity to the source of all life. And so we feel it surge electric from some source unseen, we sense it vibrate soft through our bones, emancipating us from concrete blocks and chains all around us. They all fall away like wilted petals, loose dirt on a hillside, the quiet melting of snow.

It is often astounding how much power has been given to us. How much wild truth we actually wield. We hold the reins tight within our grip. But what of the galloping horses? Are we driving mad? Or is our ride steady and true? Life is lunacy. Be bold with your madness, and freedom shall surely be born. Eventually boundaries will be found, demarcations discovered. And when that time comes, your hands will be holding fast upon the truth. The laws of man are not unknown to us. They well up like magma bubbles volcanic and dripping with ooze from the deep. The truth may be swift and sharp like a sword’s blade, but it can also be messy and misshapen particularly as it seeks its way to the surface. All that is manifest is somehow goofy and obtuse. We are forever inadequate, impossible to fully perceive, immense in our weight and gravity. We are not privy to all of God’s ways, means, or methods. But rest assured that God does indeed act. Like a panther or python lying in wait, a secret hidden behind the veil, ready to pounce whenever the time is right. God strikes into the heart of our lives, disrupting everything as we may know it to be. But what in fact was there to begin with? Are we eager to exchange that which is truly priceless for the clang of some metal? How many money changers have we installed before the house of our Lord? God speaks directly to us through the power of disruption, and disruption is a force of freedom. Nothing shall be held back. In order to see that which is real, we must first know that which is artificial. This is why we are built to create, to erect our own artifices, for we shall in time watch them decay and fall away. They are all by design already broken. On our own we can only replicate, we cannot actually fashion something true. God alone builds, and therefore all that we have fabricated shall only God split asunder. Through separation are we again united. Through pain do we find respite. By confusion shall we enlighten. As we are shackled so shall we be liberated. Even amidst all our failure, here do we arise.

Yesterday I watched a butterfly with bright orange wings flit before my eyes only to hover down to the ground and land upon a dusty rock. As the butterfly rested in so low a place it pulsated its wings open and closed as though it was breathing only to eventually close them up completely. As it sat there with its wings now erect, its bright orange color was closed in upon itself, hiding away from all the world. On the outside, the brilliant fluorescence was transformed into the same dull color of the old, dusty earth all around. The butterfly was completely camouflaged, lost to all the world, and safe. Its beauty folded unto itself, smothered, gone. It was disguised so well beneath my feet I could hardly find it sitting there among the rocks and dirt. But as the wind naturally swelled and stirred, the butterfly once again began to breathe, to reveal its delicate wings, exposing, perhaps completely unbeknownst to itself, all its splendor, color, and beauty. Catching the currents swirling all around, it surrendered itself into the wind and was carelessly lifted into the air, flashing bright and vulnerable. I watched as it glided freely, ready and willing to land wherever the wind shall deliver it, merely flying, animated, perhaps even joyful to simply, finally just be.