Freedom is a dopey word. I don’t experience myself as free or not free. Am I free to become a left-handed Icelandic rice farmer with nine kids, two ex-wives, a drinking problem, a wonky eye and a mountain of debt? Am I free to change my primary life-interest from nonduality to wallaby research? Am I free to close my eyes and rejoin the herd? Am I free to not be?
No, I am free within the very narrow confines of my pattern. Freedom strikes me as the freedom to change, and I don’t feel that I can change anything about my life; even my brand loyalties seem set in stone. I am settled into my exact and particular groove. In this sense, I am completely un-free, yet perfectly content.
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