La Libertad

sf
San Francisco, California

free·dom

ˈfrēdəm/
noun
the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.

Dwelling in dreams that are difficult to pen. Visuals drenched in technicolor and unrecognizable hues pulling me towards my greatest desire: freedom. My most treasured companion. In the morning, I awaken to her violent tug; “Remember to protect me”, she says.  The day progresses, the hours fly by, and dusk arrives. Freedom and dusk converse. She tells him of her soulful grief, “She’s currently in her home city for three weeks. I feel as if I’ll wither.” Dusk responds in his full wisdom, “Try to be gentle with her, she feels your agitation. She feels your raging demands. She feels your seductive pull. She’ll be back in flight in no time.”

Libertad.  What would my life be without an insatiable hunger to be unshackled? Without the fiery desire to fly? Freedom is my greatest desire and passion is my driving force. Day after day, she demands to be seen, heard, felt, and witnessed. After a long day, I lay awake going through thousands of unshared photos from travel escapades; My only moments of true presence. Time spaces that emphasize how much of a gift it is to be human.

The phone rings. It’s my mother. We haven’t spoken in quite some time.  She asks about my life and reminds me how much she misses me. “You taught me that some people need a lot of individual reign to function well. You need freedom. You don’t like when people try to control you, your time included.”, she says. I smile. Even if via conversation, it’s always a privilege to be with my mother’s beauty, grace, and understanding. She’s a grounding presence in my life. A woman of deep wisdom. Even if she earnestly disagrees with you, she makes space to hear you, to see you, to feel you, to hold you. An inspiring soul. The woman that from an early age would whisper in my ears and remind me via words: Follow your heart.

There are hundreds of paths up the mountain,
all leading in the same direction,
so it doesn’t matter which path you take.
The only one wasting time is the one 
who runs around and around the mountain,
telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.

Hindu teaching

My consuming craving to live life unrestrained is the energy that leads me to follow the heart lines engraved on my hands. My hands were born with lines mapping the path of a gypsy soul. The lines lead in many directions, but ultimately lead to the same destination, the same mountaintop. My heart beats to the rhythm of freedom’s song. Freedom is a force far greater than me. Words are too limited to describe the magnitude of the sensations she awakens within me. The immensity of her size consumes me. A restlessness grabs me by the bones and yanks me into continuous action. “Don’t stop moving”, Freedom whispers.  She interrupts my sleep, invades my dreams, and won’t let me go until I acknowledge how essential she is in my life:

My need for freedom is as fervent as my desire to take another breath. 

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