Freedom

I am lucky that most mornings I wake without the burdens accrued from the previous day, that mental list of things I didn’t do, or what I did wrong. Freedom of choice starts shortly after I complete this mandatory “upon wakening” routine: bathroom, feed cats, make coffee and let dogs out. So, about ten minutes into the day I challenge myself to make something positive of the next moment and not have it become the first burden of the day.

Now in the old days this freedom came hard. There were kids to care for and a job to commute to. I had to fight for the luxury to sit and think. But now the kids are grown and the job is down to one day per week by car. Freedom is on top of me like (insert a trite simile like “white on rice”). The past week has been filled with attempts to understand the motive behind the Boston Marathon bombings, not exactly the kind of freedom I had in mind when I dreamed from my work desk about that day in the future when I magically could trade the doldrums of employment for unbridled thoughts and actions of my own choosing. Maybe I need more time. Maybe the world needs to get a hold of itself. We have this fabulous planet, these opportunities to flourish with what we’ve been given but instead we fill it with greed, hate and self-righteousness.

Okay, the burdens are in sharp focus. Maybe I should go back to bed. Nope, it’s thankfully time to feed the dogs.

Maybe this is Part One of an ongoing perspective on the power and responsibility that I have, that you have, to do something with our freedoms so that the world is improved in some small way. And the dogs have finished eating.

(I wrote this in memory of Richie Havens who passed away yesterday and who sang better than anyone about “Freedom.”)