Freedom

What's it to you?

I've been mulling it over in my head this past week - what freedom is to me.

It's the fact that I am here in Seattle visiting friends, new and old, and sharing new times. It's knowing I'll never have to be a human mixer for garlic, salt and parsley ever again in my life. Freedom is having the support and ambition to bike for a cause, a cause that one of my most influential friends believes in so wholeheartedly, he has spent countless hours toward. It's sitting at this computer, even though mine has disappeared into a thief's pocket. It's that I have back-ups, ways away from tragedy. Numerous friends, family and co-workers (who are both friends and family in my eyes) who are here for me when misfortune falls.

I don't think it is sheer luck that I am an eternal optimist, or that I have people around me who support me in such loving ways. I know a large part of my blessings come from the propitious life I was born into: a loving, middle class family with a rebellious twin sister to compete with and continuously stir up my own voracious nature. But, like one of my best friend's professors once said to him: "Adult life mostly consists of recovering from our childhood."

We all have issues that we didn't necessarily concede to as children, but they were pressed upon us like labels on packaged meats. The recovering process involves figuring out what our innermost values really are all about; most often than not, they are different from our parents.

In this case, I'd like to say mine are somewhat different. I value my freedom. And what my freedom is, is much different than my parents' idea of freedom, and freedom to most Americans, for that matter.

While I find freedom in the ability to choose whatever path leads me down the most fulfilling road of emotions, they might expect me to choose security and insurance. While I find freedom in not having to pay someone every day of my life to go to sleep, so I camp, or sleep in the back of a van, they might consider freedom to be the ability to pay for lodging, or rent. While I find freedom in using my strong body to do things I am still capable of, they might think freedom is choosing to live in this blessed country we were born into. I understand all the legitimacy behind their ideas of my freedom, but do they understand mine? I understand that worry and heartsick love for one's child can sometimes color a parent's idea of what is "good" for their child. *

But what I consider good for me is following my heart and having an army of allies behind me. A slew of people who love and care enough about me, where they understand my values and good judgement. Who believe in my character and strength. Who will hug me when I come home, whether they think I am failing in life, or prospering.

Because who are we to judge another's view of freedom? Whether it be a friend, neighbor or family member - we live in a country that claims to bestow this gift upon all its citizens. I intend to receive it with open arms, and hopefully one day give it back to others who cannot have it so easily.


* And important note about this post is that it stems from a friend whose father wholeheartedly disagreed with her decision to do something that she has already decided to do. My heart crumbled a little, and then I spoke to my father who reassured me that love is understanding and a family does not react so cold-heartedly.