Freedom
The highest and greatest of the human
freedoms is to choose your attitude in any
given set of circumstances, to choose one's
own way. Victor Frankl (Man's Search
for Meaning)
If crime fighters fight crime, and
firefighters fight fire, then what do freedom
fighters fight? George Carlin
On December 1, 1955 in Montgomery, Alabama, Rosa Parks refused to obey bus driver James Blake's order that she give up her seat to make room for a white passenger. She sat a while, when Blake warned Parks, "Well, if you continue to sit here, I'm going to have you arrested."
Parks replied, "You may. Go on and do so."
Parks was 42 years old when she refused to give up her seat. She has insisted that her feet were not aching; she was, by her own testimony, no more tired than usual. And she did not plan her fateful act: "I did not get on the bus to get arrested," she has said. "I got on the bus to go home."
And yet. One simple act. Two words, "You may." Parker Palmer writes, "Which is a polite way of saying, 'What could your jail of stone and steel possibly mean to me, compared to the self-imposed imprisonment I've suffered for forty years---the prison I've just walked out of by refusing to conspire any longer with this racist system?'"
I had no intention of writing about Freedom. (It felt like too big a word, carrying a lot of freight.) I wanted to write about our Alstroemeria, now beginning to bloom, with flowers the color of warm butter. Every year I see those flowers I ask (to the sky), "Where has the summer gone?" This makes little sense since summer has just begun, but we gardeners are all about the miracle of the moment, and a pint short on common sense.
This week I watched the HBO series John Adams, about freedom and the birth of our nation, in its glorious, bloody, messy, passionate and costly founding.
Plus, we just finished our Island's July 4th Freedom Celebration. Which is, ostensibly, about freedom. Or at the very least, the freedom to grill bratwurst and drink cold beer, and queue up in front of Freedom Fireworks, a temporary structure of plywood (painted patriotic blue) and corrugated roof (looking weirdly similar to other shacks that magically materialize in late June, in small towns across America).
No different from my own childhood, freedom for many kids is about the opportunity to make explosions, or at least a lot of noise. I remember the last "cherry bomb" firecracker I touched, when at age thirteen I lit one and tossed it over our chicken coop to hear the explosion, not realizing that my father stood on the other side of the coop. This made my father less than cheerful on Freedom Day, and when people refer to the bloodshed that made Independence Day possible, I can partially relate.
Maybe I'm getting older, but the fireworks make me nervous (much like our old Golden Retriever who came unglued every July 4th, and would force herself through our back screen door looking for safe haven).
Long story short, I didn't have anything profound to write (although I did come across a website that guaranteed freedom in four steps). So this morning I took Henry David Thoreau's advice, "An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day." I didn't walk far, and ended up on my back patio watching Robin's hunt for worms in our lawn. They stride a few steps and stop, statuesque, looking like mimes in the park with exaggerated movements, or as if there's a version of animal kingdom Mother-May-I.
I thought about yesterday, when I moseyed the aisles of our grocery store (which is more like our town's water cooler, a place to catch up and gossip). This week I ran into a friend, her head hairless, courtesy of ongoing chemo-treatments. It took me by surprise. "How are you doing?" I asked. "Not too bad," she told me. "I'm half-way."
Two aisles over, I talked with another friend whose relationship of 21 years had just ended. Against her wishes, she tells me, and it feels like a sucker punch. Or like a ship without ballast. "Yes," I tell her, " I know what you mean." But I'm not sure that I do, exactly, except that it hurts a lot.
Earlier this week I spent time with another friend (who is juggling way too many burning torches). He told me, "I'm just on the edge. Don't know if I can take any more." And I knew he meant it, literally.
This brings us back to Rosa Parks. Maybe we have not been the victims of injustice or bigotry. But I do know that freedom is an important word, because we all know what it is like to NOT be free. To be stuck, mired, lost, afraid, weighed down, shackled, at the mercy of, or addicted. If we 'fess up, we admit that sometimes our shackles are chosen. I like to moan about the burden of busyness. . .but just a minute, I need to take this call.
We let our circumstances tell us we are not free. But Holocaust survivor Victor Frankl reminds us that freedom is not about the circumstances of our lives. "If we don't consciously decide what sort of person we want to be and become, our environment and our experience determine our identity and our destiny for us."
In other words, we live by default. To be free is to be present and attentive INTO whatever my life may be. This does not mean that change cannot happen. Only this --No positive change can occur in my life as long as I cling to the thought that the reason for my not living well, lies outside myself.
Freedom comes when I know, that like Rosa Parks, I have the power of choice.
When one is out of touch with oneself, one cannot touch others. Anne Morrow Lindbergh
In Him the distinctions between Jew and Gentile, slave and free man, male and female, disappear; you are all one in Christ Jesus. Letter to the Galatians (Weymouth New Testament)
Every child has known God
Every child has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don'ts,
Not the God who ever does Anything weird,
But the God who knows only 4 words.
And keeps repeating them, saying:
"Come Dance with Me, come dance."
Hafiz
My Eyes So Soft
Don't surrender your loneliness so quickly
let it cut more deep.
Let it ferment and season you
as few human or even divine ingredients can
Something missing in my heart tonight
has made my eyes so soft
my voice so tender
my need of god
absolutely clear.
Hafiz
May God bless you and protect you.
May God's presence shine on you and be gracious to you.
May God's presence turn toward you and grant you peace.
Amen.
A reader sent me this link. An article about "The freedom swim, just for the fun of it."
heraldtribune.com
From last week: The marriage of commerce and art produced this lovely and heart-rending story / commercial about a deaf girl learning to play the violin.
www.youtube
Sabbath
Moments:
To See God In All Things
Born
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Live life fully from the inside out
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