What is freedom?

Are we truly free?

“Tell me how to live.” Some say.

“Let me do what I want.” Others say.

Slaves to our own impulses. Passions.

Virtue and vice?

“What are these?” The rationalist says.

But when we eschew morals, aren’t we deceived?

Oh the pain it causes–

to the self, to another. Someone is always hurt, devastated, destroyed.

The slave answers to his master.

What masters you?

We are neither solely individuals nor a collective.

Who do we answer to?

“Liberate me.” We cry.

Only One liberates us from our isolation, pain, desolation, radical individualism–leading toward communion.

Do what you will. Free to love, to hate, to destroy, to cause pain upon another. But can you live with yourself? Free to will what we want.

O but the pain. The separation. The selfish pursuit. Always pain in the end.

Freedom: what a confusion we’ve made of it.

If our freedom causes us pain or pain toward others, we know we need to turn in the other direction.

O the will is so stubborn.

It will destroy itself in the pursuit of passions.

We are self-destructive beings–distorting truth and love.

A misery we love and hate in the same breath.


Liberate us from the wilderness, the deceiving passions and impulses. The distorted intellect.


(reflection inspired by Dostoyevsky’s Inquisitor and Graham Greene)




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