Is freedom a thing worth chasing?
Or is it a game of dig another hole to hide in?
First of all, what is freedom?
Part of it is, “by what brighter star might you navigate?”
Meaning freedom is the ability to surrender to your own will, all the while knowing that might be a farce.
In other words, surrendering to what is.
But that sounds like capitulation and defeat on some level.
Is it freeing?
Thy will be done seems like someone else’s will.
Could it be yours?
If it’s the universe’s will, then it’s the will of the one song.
And what have you deduced as the will of the one song?
That would be explosion outward.
Creativity.
Growth.
Seeding.
Procreating.
Bursting out to some unknown end.
The living everything – from the seed to the blade of grass, to bird, to dog, to man.
All of it bursts forth and is extinguished.
Then the bursting forth of another.
And for what?
Absurdity? Entertainment?
Maybe amusement.
Is the dog amused? The bird? The blade of grass?
Are those even real?
Or are they props and levers for the awake man or for the sleeping man?
Again, what is freedom?
Just another illusion?
Because, at the root, what is activity?
And what is a free activity?
What is a shackled activity?
How could any of those be different than the other?
Freedom cannot be true, because there’s no such thing as true freedom.
Ah, the freeing joy of stupid words again.
Words killing the feeling of any rationale the natural world makes.
Freedom unknown to all in the real world.
There’s nothing to chase. Nothing there. Nothing of quantifiable worth.