*Maze*Psychopathic Daze

I think cages come in many forms, in many shapes and sizes, almost as many as those that can imagine them. And sometimes, maybe most times, we’re not even aware of how we’re quietly and tacitly entering one or even creating one for ourselves through our choices and decisions.

I think cages can be very real, painfully real, they most certainly are for all of those who have found themselves inside them.

But I also think some cages are invisible, some cages have no locks, no bars, no materiality, no consistence. Some cages are woven of dream fabric, some are wrapped in regrets. Some are deviously and pleasantly misleading, some are hidden but not less poisonous.

I remember thinking about the possibility of being free even when locked in a cage. I know I’ve given this as a supreme commandment in a write-your-own-ten commandments-high-school assignment. What would that mean though? What would it entail? Surely, most people would consider that to be just gibberish, useless word play.

But would it be possible to feel freedom even when you are constricted to a cage? Is it not the mind that which creates thoughts and which accordingly evaluates situations and devises whole schemes of feelings and perceptions. If the cage is not a physical, material one, which deprives us of our physical freedom, if instead it consists of a meander of insecurities, a river bed through which too many dead fish have gone with the flow, is it then not our own mind which creates it and our own mind that which can set us free?

Obviously, there is more to cages than just imagining them away, even if they are just imaginary. For some cages are like holes, which grow deeper with time, while some cages reinforce themselves the more you attempt to escape them.

It seems rather odd that sometimes the more you crave something, the further away you’re being taken from it. Well, maybe not odd, since in some cultures and understandings, that goes by as common knowledge.

But then the answer, letting go of craving, letting go of desire, brings about such storms, since how can one let go of wanting to be free. Is that not the hardest thing to give up wanting?

I have never wanted, craved or desired anything more in my entire life than to be free. Granted, freedom comes as well in many acceptions but something I’ve always known about my freedom is that it is not to be defined, it is to be felt. Not to be compared (for how can you compare something you cannot truly know anything about?).

I wonder sometimes why people are so obsessed with happiness. I have no problem with being obsessed, I just don’t understand why they go about their whole lives seemingly searching for it, craving it, working for it, even dying for it and somehow missing it altogether.

I mean, if you ask me, if you’re gonna crave something, at least make it good. And freedom is beyond good. Freedom is feeling in love with yourself, which however pathetic I think it sounds, it sure as hell feels perfect. Of course, the curse of words falls always upon us and I can easily see the whole being in love with yourself severely tortured by self-absorbed egomaniacs or confused sociopaths, when all the while, what I think being in love with yourself means, is being in love with life, since I feel that is what we are, different interpretations of life. At least that is how freedom feels like to me.

Another aspect about freedom is that sometimes, if it happens that you find yourself in such a cage, freedom shows itself in glimpses, in tremors of the heart and smiles of the eyes. Just like to remind you that she’s real, she’s there, you just have to be brave and let go of wanting her, while at the same time, knowing in your whole being that she is you. And no matter the cage, she will always be stronger, should you be brave enough to acknowledge her strength.

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