I’ve got nothing against seven minutes in heaven or BDSM, but I’ve never liked closed doors and I’ve never liked being tied down. For me, freedom is ability. I want to be able to get up and walk out a door whenever the impulse strikes. But by that same token, I reserve my right to sit still and build.
My father built something great. As a child I’d thought that much was obvious, but I’d come to this conclusion superficially. It’s easy to think a big house and family vacations are a testament to something great, and often they may be. In this case, I was right, but for the wrong reasons.
My father built himself. He built himself which in turn built his world. As long as I’ve known him he’s been stable and reliable, as is his world, a world I was blessed to have grown in for 20 years. This stability and reliability is likely why I’m so excited by freedom. I can set sail and crash as far from home as I like with a soul wild for experience because I have a rock. I can shoot for the moon and land amongst the stars or fall to the same solid ground to which I’ve never been tied. I can walk out any door without fear of being shut out because I know there will always be one open to me.
Freedom is ability. Ability is what power remains after fear has taken it’s toll. Power comes from the solid ground upon which you stand. Fear comes from the unknown, from uncertainty, from a lack of reliability. My father, my rock, has given me freedom. I have the freedom to try and fail, recover and learn, try again and succeed. I have the freedom to be whomever I choose and pursue whatever life I wish to live.
Find your rock. Face your fear. Make yourself. The world is yours.
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