I’m really curious about freedom right now.
For years I’ve been studying sociology and simplicity. I’ve been looking at the complexity of our social, political, and economic systems and the simplicity of the human spirit. I’ve wondered how complexity and simplicity coexist and how each impacts our lives.
My studies usually lead me to consider freedom—mostly what it is and how I can have it.
Today, as I think about freedom, I’m considering that the Self needs room to express—to be free.
I’m also thinking that the Self is an entity easily concealed by everyday life.
When we work regular jobs, we sacrifice some part of our natural expression to do what’s required of us. We wake up according to our job’s schedule; we sit, stand, or stay inside according to our job’s requirements; we talk to people whether we want to or not to get the job done; we eat according to our own and our coworkers’ schedules; we design our calendars to serve our work needs first and our family or personal needs second. We “take one for the team,” engage in the “daily grind,” and “work our fingers to the bone” to “make a living.”
When we buy stuff, we create physical reminders of who we think we are. We buy clothes that fit how we see our bodies; we buy furnishings that help us live our everyday lives; we buy toiletries that helps us look and smell the way we want to; we buy foods that make our bodies and health the way we want them; we buy make-up, clothes, and accessories that make us look like ourselves (or at least the selves we would like to look like); we buy gear that enables us to do the stuff we like to do. We surround ourselves with things that ultimately keep “us” in place.
When we engage with people outside of work, we often do so with people we find safe, familiar, and comfortable. We find friends and we stick with them. We surround ourselves with people who match who we are and what we want in life.
When we get married, declare lifelong friendships, and buy houses, we commit to the long-term. We say “this is who I love,” “this is who I’m compatible with,” and “this is where I live.” We say, “This is who I am, and this is who I plan to be for years to come.”
Our work, our things, and our people can easily comprise who we know ourselves to be.
None of this is bad.
Much of it is automatic.
Many of us have freed ourselves from at least some of it.
Some of us are completely trapped in it.
Some of us like it and even love it.
I wonder about our capacity to express our Selves in it. Can we sense who we are through all of it?
When I walked El Camino de Santiago last May, I became a big believer in pilgrimage as an access to experiencing one’s Self. On that walk, I carried 14 pounds of stuff, most of which was water and food weight that came and went every day. I wore the same skirt, dress, and two tank tops for 40 days. I went without a phone. I went without a husband or friends. I went without art supplies, a yoga mat, and running shoes. I went without a job to return to. I went without a home to return to. I went without books I love, things I love, and people I love. I went without knowing what I would return to or who I would be
I went without a clue about where I was going or where I’d end up. I did have a guide book, but I had never been to any of the places I visited, and the guide book left much to the imagination. Every day, I left one place, arrived at another, and met new people. Every day, I experienced something completely new. Every day, I had to be someone I didn’t have to be the day before (strong, brave, gentle, willing, peaceful, present, trusting, assertive, etc.).
Every day I had one job: to walk. Every day, I woke up, packed my bag, ate food, walked, ate more food, walked, cleaned my clothes, communed with people, ate more food, and went to bed. That was it. There were no other requirements or expectations.
My life was extraordinarily simple. I was profoundly free from my usual structures.
I felt liberated. I felt at peace. I felt happy. For more than a month, nothing was weighing me down. Nothing was keeping “me” in place.
I think we all have a right to experience this kind of freedom. It is a gift we give to our Selves to strip something (if not everything) away to see what’s there. Even if we choose to return to exactly from where we came, we’ve at least lifted the veil. When we lift the veil, even if only for a moment, we get a glimpse of who we are in our rawness.
In love and liminality,
Annie Rose