Monday, August 4, 2008

How's that Freedom Coming?

You know what really pisses me off? The illusion of freedom that we have in this country. Everyone yells about freedom, freedom this, freedom that, freedom haters, freedom lovers, the land of the free, the fight to free the oppressed. But what actually is the freedom we have that is so holy?
To me, most of how it works in America is the confusion of infinite choices with genuine freedom. Just because you can select from a gangantuan list of possible life choices doesn’t mean you have freedom- it means you have the freedom to choose from a list of someone else’s pre-selected categories.
It’s kind of like going down a mountain covered in snow (that’s right, feel my analogy!). There are a whole bunch of chutes that are already dug out. And because they are already dug out, they’re significantly easier than having to dig one yourself. And then everyone behind you is saying, “Go on! Pick the one that suits you best!” So you try to find the one that best fits, and you’re off.
Digging your own chute takes time, energy, and struggle. And it’s even harder if everyone is pushing you to choose one of the already existent ones. But none of them could ever fit anyone completely because we’re all different. And I don’t mean different like I want a blue fence instead of a red one, I mean profoundly, substantially different. Different in how the various pieces of our souls and experiences come together to define who we are at this point in time.
It’s like the general process of turning everything into a chain version of itself. In order to do that, you have to file off the edges, make sure that it fits the needs of more people. In so doing, you ensure that it will fit people less. It will fit more people somewhat, but will not completely fit anyone. So what we lose is how to be really good at something in the name of being better than average at a lot of things.
In this case, what we lose is being really good at life. Satisfaction/happiness/whatever you want to call it, is attainable, but not if you are choosing between an Abercrombie life and an Urban Outiftter’s life. In the end, they’re all the same- slightly inferior versions of a real life.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

" Digging your own chute takes time, energy, and struggle."

And Money! Dreams are unfortunately not free I have discovered. You also can't be one of those people who sits on their ass all day thinking "God" will come save you and bring you a dream job which will come knocking on your door.

There is also the matter of you paying with blood (possibly not yours) sweat (most likely yours) and tears (your's, mine and anyone close to you)

Yeayh... there is a reason they call it chasing your dreams. Depends on just how fast ya wanna run.

Anonymous said...

What you seem to be talking about should be distinguished from Happiness. True FREEDOM might be attained by making conscious choices, through volitions that give ownership over these choices, but that doesn't mean it leads to happiness.

There is a lot of pain and sacrifice that comes with the kind of Freedom you're talking about. The cost of this has tall shadows. And it becomes hard to see straight. Then you have to make more choices. More burdens just to hold onto this Freedom.

There's a steep price to pay to get into this wintery country club of yours. Though its not an exclusive membership, it might as well be. Navigating down these chutes and slopes, the gear, and even the insurance premium one should have if they fall and break their legs going off a jump. Most don't have all of this and you might argue most should not. What happens when there's no medi-vac to chopper your broken self home?

You sound crazy. Just not stupid. That's your problem. You lead people up a mountain, tell them to choose their path down and stick with it. The difference is you have a map. Most peopled don't. And nowhere around your blog do I see a triple black diamond warning sign: Experts Only. Go down at your own risk.

Me, I choose to take the ski-lift back down to the lodge, drink my hot cocoa and hit on some blonde ski-bunnies.