We Can Trust the Word ‘Freedom’

This is not a political story but a story about Earth

Photo by Mae Mu on Unsplash

We think of freedom in terms of color. Red, white, and blue. Can we not think of freedom in terms of shape? In complexity? In form?

This head of lettuce, to me, represents freedom. It is a unit of measurement with multiple parts. It is a form. A shape. A representation of old and new. Big and small. Tender and tough.

Lettuce, you ask? How can a head of lettuce satisfy a serious-minded conversation about freedom at a time when the United States is reeling with insecurity and mistrust, and the very word ‘freedom’ is no longer a word we use as a united people?

I will tell you that we are a head of lettuce.

We, the citizens of the United States, are bound as one like the leaves to a common root. Place. There is no other word that will substitute. The United States is a place.

The United States has become a way of thinking, but before I go there let’s consider the root. It is. What? A root. A stand of multi-sensory components that nurture the head of lettuce.

What are we? We are the scattered leaves that have emotionally and spiritually dislodged ourselves from the root.

Did we dislodge ourselves or were we dislodged by some knife-wielding militant? I’ll let you answer that one for yourselves.

No matter the knife, the militant, or some grand unimaginable design in the scheming of our multi-verse, random or deliberate, we have been chopped.

Good: Away from expectations, the bound rules, and the societal box we were once put in, we are now free to explore new thinking.

Bad: Away from others, the rule of law, the institutions, and the church, we are now free but desperately alone.

Having imagined myself chopped free from the stupidity of this tit-for-tat world rule we must abide by, I feel uninvested in it all. And this is good. I am a leaf, free to drift away from the root, the confines of others, and their third-grade thinking. Freedom.

On the other hand, without the others, I will be alone.

My leaf, as well as all the leaves, belong. We may no longer be one, having become chopped from the root. This is good because we are all different leaves, but what will happen to us if we don’t honor the multiplicity of the whole? We come from a root. The root gives us sustenance and support.

My root is Earth. She is the core of my being and my strength. Without caring for Earth, I would be left rootless. Is that any way to live?

When we care for the root that nurtures and keeps us in form, we can begin to see all the other leaves around us that have been formed by Earth. We may not wish to be whole and held and will fight to get chopped from the root, but it is impossible not to think that we will always be whole and held.

We come from a place of whole and holding.

Freedom is a good thing and it is a bad thing. It is. It is whatever we want freedom to mean. For me, freedom is knowing I have the choice to be a lone leaf, having wriggled free from the crazy ‘leaves’ that dishonor my soul/self, free to be held when I wish to be held, and free to wander if I choose to wander.

For me, there is always the freedom to learn and grow and care about the world I live in. Thankfully, I get to do that in the United States and I get to shift my thinking as it suits.

Yes, I belong to one group think-tank over another, but first and foremost, I belong to Earth.

I will always maintain a respect for the past, as just that, the past — where we have maintained a certain degree of thinking. I will look toward the future by honoring what is good about the past and acknowledging what we must let go of. And I will sustain myself in the now by balancing this past self with the future self.

Earth, the root, is the boundary and the path.

Let the fractioning lettuce leaves do their thing. Many will wilt and die off without acknowledging the root.

Experiencing the Energetic Divide:

Can we find a way to embrace division and work creatively with it?

Imagine yourself in a corrugated box. Maybe it is the kind of box wine bottles are transported in—each bottle (you) in its own sleeve. The box is divided. You are divided from the whole.

There are twelve compartments. The box is one box but the sleeves separate the bottles from each other. Can you see yourself in this box? What part of the box are you residing in? Are you dead center? On an end? Perhaps you like one of the corners best?

There’s not a lot of room in this box. You are standing, feet planted squarely on the bottom, and you’re being transported this way with very little wiggle room. It’s stuffy. The box is hot. Claustrophobic.

Now imagine the box getting shipped across the country. Suddenly, you arrive in L.A. You step out of your sleeve thinking you will be fine in L.A., but L.A. is somewhat different than Topeka. It’s not that different, but it’s definitely not the same.

There are stores and restaurants. OK. This will bring some comfort. You might call an Uber to come pick you up and take you to a hotel. But once inside the hotel, you’re separated into a room. A door closes behind you. You are vaguely aware of yourself in proximity to other hotel rooms, but you’re separated from those rooms. You reside, for the time being, in another box.

This hotel is situated on a street. The street is marked on a map — an arbitrary drawing on the land. Someone long before you came to L. A. staked a claim to the land and put up markers to divide themselves from the rest of the territory. The land was fought for, purchased, or stolen. Divided.

Everywhere you look you notice division. It is in the atmosphere where the clouds filled with rain divide from the ones that are not.

On and on and over and over you find and recognize division.

You might think about the cancer cells in your body — how they are dividing. Maybe you think about the good cells that are replacing the bad. You think about all of this division as either good or bad.

Was it good that you came to L.A. in a cardboard box? I guess if you think about it — any vehicle that would have taken you there — represents some form of division. The train car is divided from the one in front of it. First class is divided from the third class. A car is divided from a truck. An airplane seat separates you from the other passengers. And on and on.

Your mind is like a corrugated wine box. It is like a train car. And it is like the map. It divides. Like the cells in your body, your mind splits into one of two camps. For or against. It will either think to build and repair or destroy.

The world, and all of its occupants, are part of a divisive universe.

We are under this impossible illusion that we can generate a unified existence, but this is an ideal.

One is one. But one is divided. One will always divide from the other.

Earth is an experiment in unification. Will the thoughts that separate you from your best friend destroy you or will you find a place in your soul for open honest conversation and exploration knowing you are divided from, well, everything?

Here’s What I Know About the Writer’s Journey

WE CREATE ROADBLOCKS IN OUR MINDS, AND UNLESS WE USE THE MIND TO DISASSEMBLE THESE BLOCKS WE WILL CONTINUE TO STRUGGLE.

There is not one way to say this, and many writers will attempt to dissect and analyze The Writer’s Journey for us all. My approach, then, will be unique to me, because my experience is unique. Because of me. But I am not alone in saying this: “The Writer’s Journey is difficult.”

My first attempt at The Writer’s Journey led me straight into rejection. It was like I hurled my over-confident self right smack into a brick wall over and over in the hope that the brick wall would move and open up closed doors for me. It didn’t.

This desire to succeed and prove myself was so great that I couldn’t see what I was doing wrong. I thought the wall was wrong to be there. And it took a long time for me to see that I was going to have to take down the wall brick by stupid brick.

Literally, and figuratively, The Writer’s Journey for me has been about disassembling expectations and stepping into a new alignment with the meaning of success. Because I had had a fair amount of success in school and was certainly a creative person, and I knew this, I had a fair amount of certainty that the wall would crumble. For me. I didn’t understand this kind of hard work. And it took me a long time to accept that writing is hard work.

All things being said, I wanted instant success. Right? Each of us has probably experienced this same story, repeatedly. It doesn’t work like this for the majority of us as many Writers’ Journeys are fraught with complications such as not feeling good enough to be here, or continually feeling upended by rejection. We must work to overcome these feelings before we can see that there is success right in front of our noses.

I took another route to work around the feeling of rejection that I want to share.

This became, not how I was going to tear down the wall by myself (remember the wall represents “that which stands in our way”), but how I was going to begin to understand my emotional self to understand how I had built that wall by myself. I was responsible for the wall. No one else created this wall. I created an obstacle because I saw rejection as a problem. It took me a long time to find rejection as only something in my mind. It only existed because I labeled it rejection.

Still with me?

It took years of rejection for me to accept the wall existed because I saw “that which stood in my way” as a construct. I saw rejection as a marker. I saw it as a plush pillow to lie my head upon and cry.

Let’s unearth the emotional journey, because we all have one, whether we’re writers, artists, or creators of any kind.

The emotional response to rejection becomes the wall. It is not the editors, the publishers, or the agents who say “no.”

This makes The Writer’s Journey about conquering emotion. It is not about fighting anyone else. It is not about laying blame. It is not about hurling insults at the world because the world isn’t bending to our latest whim. Therefore, becoming a master at emotional self-restraint is the key to creative success.

People will share their absolutes with you and these absolutes will be encouraging. I wanted to speak to this notion that the wall is our own construct, one we design in our mind that we build and that we when we’re ready can take it down with the help of a strong self.

I think self-esteem has to come from our truth and not from our desire to prove ourselves. We can’t playact our way to writer’s success. We have to be successful in our minds at every step of the way.

My idea of success is having one person drop me a line that says something to the effect of “you’re helping me.” I was desperate for the audience, but an audience of one is just as proven as an audience of one hundred. Or one thousand. I accept this now.

I write often about this need to succeed. To climb. To gain. We’re programmed to march onward and make inroads in our careers, but we tend to march forward without appreciating the steps. This journey is still difficult at times because I tend to still see it as difficult but to get to this place of acceptance that the journey is “a journey,” well, this is my goal.

The Writer's Journey still has its bumpy moments. But because I have a better emotional shock absorber and can appreciate and accept the nitty gritty work, and the fact that I create this idea of rejection as rejection in my mind, instead of seeing it as part of the maturation process, I can honestly say I’m having more fun. And more success!

The mind creates.

Social Media As A Tool

Social Media is a distractor. It serves to aggravate us. It isn’t designed to bring us to the truth of ourselves, but to the hunger as we seek more and more fulfillment outside ourselves.

I welcome you to The Intrepid Mediator and to this idea that we can undo the heartbreaking need to be liked. Together we can find inner peace and fulfillment as we learn to be in balance with all that surrounds us.

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