My Freedom Was Never Scarce

(Source: Ritual in Transfigured Time, 1946)

I reflect on a time when freedom didn’t feel so scarce—when it was a close confidant, sharing my most intense moments of happiness. Now, I search for freedom, finding it coiled up in the crevices of my fears. Freedom has become the dusty furniture that has accumulated in my mind. Freedom wants to be invited in, so I can cross the threshold of meaning regarding my life. I do not need permission to live unconditionally, for it cannot be withheld by external assurances. Freedom is an inherent necessity, like oxygen that fuels the body. I’m drowning in familiarity, causing me to become complacent in my own sovereignty for freedom. I’ve intentionally placed limitations on myself for fear of failing or changing my mind. But there’s profoundness in taking risks and trying, rather than harping on distant allusions that will remain stagnant in time. Freedom was never scarce; I was just operating from a scarcity mindset. Freedom has been within me since my first breath—the gasp that unveiled a world so new, much like spiritual hymns chanted aloud before escaping to freedom.