At what cost, Freedom?

Freedom. It seems most people want more of it, envisioning perhaps how their lives might look if they had more (money, time, you name it) or fewer (responsibilities, limitations, etc.).

More time spent on long holidays, away from the daily grind. Check. More time spent with people they love, and far from those they don’t. Check. More options, more choices, more, more, more.

At what cost?

When I think of freedom, what it says to me is choice. The freedom to choose, in each moment, what is best for me and all involved.

It means there may appear to be more options available, and that I have access to a different kind of choice than when I felt less free. It means I have space to feel into each one, and not simply choose what is before me as if it were the only one that existed. It means I can weigh up the options, do research and decide what fits me best, right now. It means I can make a different choice later, because I have the space and resources to do so.

It means I can choose sustainable options, if that’s my thing, and dispose of well-loved items in a way that feels less harmful. I can decide where to shop, where to live, how to travel, who to love, how to worship. If I decide I want something, there are multiple ways to access it. I see limitless choices when I feel free.

I also know choice has weight to it. Every potential choice has a cost, to me or to another. If I am willing to carry that cost, then I feel a sense of freedom. If not, I burden myself (or another) with the fall-out.

A simple example: if I choose to eat meat, that freedom costs another living being their life (no judgement, I eat meat). This is currently the nature of our existence.

In other words, freedom is far from free.

When I ask myself what freedom’s flip side is, I feel entitlement. A sense of unbridled, careless consumption (taking vs receiving), that appears to come from a deeply wounded aspect of humanity. Something attempting to have its needs fulfilled through pouring more and more into unquenchable abysses.

Freedom, in its purest state, is inclusive and expansive. When we use our perceived freedoms with impunity, when our free choices impinge on another’s right to choose, to live, to feel safe, it moves into entitlement. 

I think of Gisèle Pelicot’s former husband (don’t know who Mme Pelicot is? See this story on BBC as one example: French rape survivor Gisèle Pelicot: I need to have answers), who freely offered up her drugged body for his (and dozens of other men's) pleasure for a decade, until he was caught following a different offence. Take, take, take. His entitled sense of access to Mme Pelicot’s body, denying her the freedom to choose what was being done to her, acting as if the symptoms she was experiencing were mysteries to him, and hiding his actions in the shadows, speak to the darkness born of the distortion where freedom becomes entitlement.

I think of lands around the world denuded by greedy industry, eager for more, more, more, leaving their inhabitants in various states of despair. People and animals who’ve been reliant on local resources, forced to go further and further afield to survive. The unchecked demands of far distant freedoms (choices) require constant supply.

And yet, and yet… at the heart of it all lies choice.

When I feel least free, I can still CHOOSE. I can choose to see another perspective, to try a new thing, to use my voice. I can choose to take a stand against injustice. Just as Mme Pelicot took a stand, choosing not to remain anonymous, thus denying anonymity to her abusers. She broke the mould. Her freedom to speak, to not be shamed into silence, has contributed to ongoing reviews of rape laws in France (and potentially beyond). The courage of her choice meant her ex-husband and his accomplices lost their freedom for years to come.

People come together to protest deforestation, mining, over-fishing, war - all to protect the interests of sacred and precious lands and their inhabitants worldwide. Some take to social media to protest the mistreatment of others for their choices (i.e. freedom) over how they pray or how they present.

The costs of freedom are part of its gift. Sometimes wearing barbed and brutal thorns, a dark side. The more deeply we tune into our hearts, and the web of connection that unites us, the better choices we make towards freedom for all. We can learn to choose differently, to hold the hearts of others at the centre of our decision-making, to carefully weigh the cost of each choice towards a future that feels safe, equitable and free for all the Earth’s occupants.

That’s a freedom I can get excited about.

~ Jenny