I've been in a funk lately, evidenced by the serious decline in yoga, meditation, writing, dancing, music, and patience toward my children. I know I'll get back on my square eventually. This rare quiet morning alone is offering me the perfect opportunity to sit on my patio, admire things that grow and bloom, chirp and chatter, shine, warm, and sustain life, meditate, pray. While quiet contemplation usually offers a measure of peace to chase away the anxiety and frustration over things I can't control, I still feel old demons lying in wait to rob me of that peace and the freedom to enjoy my life as it is.
Today, we are supposed to remember those who risk and give their lives to bring us peace, to keep us free. Though their sacrifice is great and honor deserved, I realize how often I squander that freedom and peace with my own personal oppression. This reminded me of something I wrote about freedom several years ago...
After searching through my files and Emails, I came across all sorts of things I've written about freedom, who I am, what I believe. I never did find the piece I was looking for, but I found exactly what I needed to be free.
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