Here I am sitting in front of the white page again, this time choosing my moment instead of waiting for that elusive instant where I have something to say or share. Why not conjuring it instead?
Freedom is the price to pay when living as a maker and you pay it in sweat and pain, those currencies your will and intent bring out of you in order to change yourself into your self.
Freedom is not something you gain after you have done everything right, that would not be the shamanic way, it is much more than that, it is not a reward, it is not an emotion, it is not even a state of mind. I can't define it by what it is, only by what it is not because it can only be found in the spaces between, lurking in the silences between the notes of a bad tune, but it is always there waiting to be ignited. Freedom is patient, in the end it will always win… You will be free, but maybe not on your own terms. Wait...isn't that a contradiction?
Your death is pure freedom.
Ah, but if you let your own death choose your destiny, your path then you are already dead. So let's wrestle that movement out of your best friend and bring about the energies of your life back from the brink of the nightmare you have created and move them into the dream, let them jump out of the palms of your hands, let them touch the worlds with awareness and give shape, oh yes we need shapes, shapes within and shapes without.
We need to shapeshift ourselves into a different world.
See you on the other side.