The Freedom to Be

There is a distinctive memory from my childhood that comes around especially in days like today, when I feel more edgy and triggered than usual.

I am this 8 or 9 year old, skinny and sun-kissed, who dangles herself on a whirring swing, under a full Moon night.

Some other giggly kid must have asked because I hear myself saying in a loud, thrilled voice: Tomorrow is Saturday and we will all be going to visit grandma’s.

The passing time may have distorted the accuracy of this moment but one thing I remember vividly is the freedom and exalt of heading to the woods the following morning. It was as if a warm glow covered me up and while gazing at the Moon, I thought to myself just how lucky I am to have something that misses from me profoundly.

Now, grandma – even if not the most idyllic character I’ve loved – was the spotlight in all my school breaks and she had wrapped around her an astonishing scenery: a 100 year old, yellow painted cottage house with a harnd carved porch, an orchard of mirabelle trees, loads of nosy ducklings, fresh well water and a hanged vineyard that seemed to embrace our daily play in its textured shade.

Nearly all my childhood memories have a corner of old cottage house in them. Modest and lively coloured, with burnt wood and fresh linen smell.

And it strikes me to think that at all times we may just have everything we need, but we would discover that only when all has long left us. We are too busy to rush towards a future moment.

While humanity’s accomplishments are countless, I can not help but feel there is something that went terribly wrong in this social design.

Something has been missing from me and many others that I know and it’s sure not only time.

I am tired but not in the way my parents were tired when they came from their middle-class paying jobs. I am rather stretched and pulled and I am taking vit. D for lack of sun exposure. And I run after temporary satisfying things.

I pay with my life for pure clutter and even if I have had times when I scrolled through the most Pinterestial mansions and I pictured myself sipping tea over a 25000 sq ft yard, I can not help but wonder sometimes:

Why? Why on Earth would we voluntarily work ourselves like donkeys for commodities?

Shouldn’t one stop from hunting when enough sustenance goods have been hoarded?

When should one end its greed is a subjective matter, they answer, but considering the disaster that we leave behind and the wrecks we can become, I would say it’s a global issue. Anyone’s today selfish needs will become someone’s tax to pay in the future.

And we’re not even happy!

What I am clumsily trying to paint here is the easiness we found in trading a meaningful, sunrise-watching, grass-scented life, for an automated lifestyle with perks like getting things done faster but not necessarily better.

While I do enjoy the benefits of the modern world I can not not miss the old fashioned days when people seem to bond easily and recognised their need to belong to each other.

There were some who called these thoughts of mine a seasonal outburst but I am sure that I am not the only one who imagines a fusioned life, filled with substance and meaning.

A life where one can wake up to the sunrise and meet the grass and shake oneself up from the night spirits.

I dream of freedom. Not only the freedom to move easily in such enormous world but the freedom to just BE and not feel guilt for it.

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