I find freedom in doing the very things that scare the shit out of me. While it may not feel free in the moment, the act opens up a space for freedom to take place. Like letting fresh air into a musty room.
Besides these blog posts, ha ha, the scariest thing I’ve done lately is tell a special someone that I cared very much about him. I knew telling the truth about how I felt would break what we had. I was scared because I didn’t want it to end. So my desire to be honest butted up against my need to keep things as they were. But nothing ever stays the same, we’re always only ever changing.
The crux between fear and freedom is buried right in here: I like how things have been, but something’s different, so I’ve got to go with the change or become a prisoner, get stuck in the past.
Freedom feels like it’s directly linked to our ability to go with the changes that life will always present.
A few posts ago I asked: “what’s your brand of fear?” The purpose of the question was to get you to look at your behavior so you could tell where fear was hiding. Because underneath that is where freedom lives. For example, if you’re doing things on auto pilot or excessively controlling, and have even a glimmer that those things may be rubbing up against your daily experience in the wrong way, that’s a fucking clue right there. Again, you don’t have to make it public, you just have to know it for yourself.
The definition of freedom differs for each of us, but I’m pretty sure we can all agree that freedom does not feel like contraction, shrinkage or tightness. Freedom feels expansive, open and limitless. And sometimes you have to contract a bit to expand afterwards, just like breathing.