Being Free

I've often thought being free meant being solo, alone, figuring it all out for myself, knowing myself wholly and completely, and having adventures for the sake of me. That was free.

This freedom is lonely. If you stumble or fall or make a mistake, no one is there to catch you. No hand is holding yours, keeping you from tumbling over and skinning your knees. 

So when you make decision with this solitary freedom, you always to have to weigh the risk of you falling flat on your face, in a foreign place, with no one to call on or who will be stopping by to check that you're still alive in there.

In that sense, this freedom is a bit restricting, right? Because you're now afraid to take the risk because of the consequences you'll have to bear alone.

So maybe real freedom is shared freedom. Double the freedom, if you will. Because when you're loved, you're free to try and to risk and to want and to know yourself and have adventures but you're also free to fail, to fall, to cry, to be weak and vulnerable sometimes, to be cared for no matter what. 

Yep. I'm kinda thinking that's real freedom, much more so than the solo idea.

I suppose love will do that to you, help you learn to see things differently, more clearly.

Thank you, Love.

Sarah :: Your Plucky Picaroon

Sarah :: Plucky in Love

Sarah, aka "Plucky", blogs on the reg, unless she's on vacation or there's a Pretty Little Liars marathon or she's mulling over the implications of the phrase "on fleek." She can't live without iced coffee, a portable phone charger, or equal pay. Say hello!

No comments:

Post a Comment