Freedom, yeah freedom, that’s just some people talking.  Your prison is walking through this world all alone. -The Eagles.

There is only one thing on earth that has the power to motivate and shape men.  We do need something more.  Some sort of adventure.  Some sort of idea or hope that it is never too late.  For I can’t think of anything so terrifying as waking up and wondering if you’ve missed something.  To think that maybe, while we were looking the other way, the world passed up by.  It is like a magic trick.  Some blink-any-you-miss-it moment that changes everything.  Is it too late?

We need to prove we are alive.  I know it is simple to think that we would know when it is we live and when it is we die.  But perhaps there is some cloud in the middle.  Living, but not alive.  Or alive but not living.  Incomplete somehow. 

So what is freedom?  Is it running away?  Is it abandonment?  Is it adventure?  Freedom is an illusion.  In the end of things, those most “free” die alone.  In desperation they seek something they never knew they needed or thought they could live without.  They lack love. 

That is what true freedom is.  Not a freedom from others to be by one’s self, but a freedom from the bonds of one’s self to truly see others, or maybe just one other, as something more.  This is the only true way we can experience freedom.  We are not shackled to ourselves and our lot.  We may be free.  But to be free we must, we must, learn to love. 

We may not be cowards, perhaps we are just indifferent. 

There is no freedom, not in the way we think.  There is only love.  And with it, freedom.