Freedom Friday Motherf*cker
From A Ghost; To A Ghost: a contribution to Chris Cook’s Famous Freedom Friday thread
Dear Reader,
Thanks for being here, it means the world to me.
Today I have been invited by Mr. Chris Cook to contribute to his running Friday theme of Freedom. It is an honor and a privilege to do so. Hopefully I’m up to the task, as I am writing this piece from inside of a cage. Behind bars. Locked up. Oh well, I’ve been in worse places, at least this prison is full of puppies and toys.
Let’s go shall we?
FREEDOM.
I don’t think the word is understood the same across the spectrum of humanity. Nor can it ever be. It is a personal state that can only be experienced temporarily. We trade our freedom for experiences, voluntarily, every day. Freedom is a resource, and it is how you got here. Now you get to decide how much of that freedom you retain, and how much of it you trade for experience. And when to do so.
Freedom exists in the play of Light and Dark that you are swimming in.
There is no freedom in the blinding, white light of God. That Light is so pure, nothing can exist there but Light itself. Therefore God is not free to be anything but pure. Nothing but the Light. That’s right, I said it. God is NOT free. If He was, why would He need you?
It is this reason that He created His opposite. Darkness.
Ripped from the Light itself, he was born into his own prison, not freedom. I won’t re-write that experience here. I have already explored the birth of that part of myself, and it takes a toll each time I walk that old memory. If you would like to read about that moment please check out my other writings here on Substack, I will post links at the bottom of this page.
So, where does that leave us?
Right where we’ve always been, that’s where. In the beauty that is born from the play of darkness and light. The Fray. The Storm. The World.
YOU. ME. US. We all come here to play. To experience ourself. To trade our freedom for Love, for pain, and for everything in between.
I know this seems abstract, and maybe I’m just too far gone to relate this experience with words anymore. But freedom in this realm only comes from one source.
Sacrifice. The act of Letting Go. Or in other words.
Walking Away.
That brings me to the first of 3 songs I would like to share with you today. Always 3 ❤️
Walk away from all that you know
Walk away and hold your own
And I've seen people holding on to something
Smiling with no place to call home
In you I see something so familiar, uh
My dear friend, so nice to have you home
-Xavier Rudd
“Walk Away”
From the album “Storm Boy”
Xavier Rudd’s music speaks to me from a place I have been before. He is a warrior in the garden, and I am forever thankful to him.
This song in particular resonates with me in a primal way. In fact, I took his advise literally. My family and I did just that. We Walked Away. We started new. We traded the comfort that we had created in our life to that point, we traded it for the freedom of the unknown. Something unexplored. We sacrificed everything that we had traded our freedom for up to that point, and cast ourselves into the chaos of the storm.
That complete freedom was short lived however, as it always is. Your freedom is the currency you use to be able to shoulder new responsibilities, or gain new knowledge, and new experiences. Can’t keep it all and live a full life.
Only someone who understands this concept will be able to live it out. If you don’t understand it, someone will undoubtedly come along and steal your freedom for themselves. Leaving you in a prison of your own making, no possibility of parole.
Don’t despair though, just because they wont let you out, doesn’t mean you can’t escape. Prison breaks are always possible, difficult yes, not impossible. Sometimes it takes death and rebirth. It’s OK. Memento Mori. ❤️
This brings me to my next song for this week. It is also by Xavier Rudd. I once witnessed a miracle while listening to this song. I saw the death and rebirth process play out in a loved one with a soundtrack of sorts.
Ever done DMT?
I, I sit by my window with everything I've done
Doors that I've opened and webs that I've spun
And the candle besides me burns to the left
And the rain on the clay sends the lizard to it's nest
And there will be a time, when I will hold you again
With my arms spread out, just you'll rest
And I'll write you a letter with everything I know
About the weight of the world and the way things could go
So live up my friend, step back again
For some things will be given, for some you'll have to bend
You'll have to bend my friend, to hold on to this
For some things will come easy, and some will be a test
You'll have to bend!
-Xavier Rudd
“The Letter”
The sun was high in noontime sky.
The glass pipe lay on the table, orange crystals catching the sun’s rays, glittering in the bowl.
A man sits in a chair at a glass topped table, tall trees form a perimeter around the yard in which this table sits. Huge poplars and oaks standing guard over a prisoner of sorts. Someone whose freedom had been stolen at an early age. A man who had known much pain, abandonment, and fear.
Yet a man who also knew Love.
A walking, talking, contradiction, like all humans.
An angel and a demon sat at the table with him. And we loved him.
It was time for him to break free and leave this place.
A small black speaker sat in the center of the table, the small blue light glowing to indicate its readiness.
The man reached out with hands that were covered in old, faded, bluing tattoos. He picked up the glass pipe and held it gently, almost timidly. Death was near. We all felt it.
We started the music for him.
Time to go my friend.
As the first notes of “The Letter” began to fill the air, the man held the flame to the bowl and breathed smoke.
We were not allowed on his journey into death. We all must walk that road alone and with empty pockets. But we were there for his rebirth, and it was beautiful.
The man with the tattoos smiled. And for a moment, he remembered.
He remembered what it meant to be free.
We loved him for it.
Then, as the last few notes of “The Letter” drifted off, the man opened his eyes and saw the bars were back. He was still in prison.
Yet, something in him had shifted and he knew his journey out of hell was just beginning.
The smile remained as he walked away.
❤️
I hope you enjoyed those two songs. They are both very special to me.
I can’t write about the music that has shaped me without mentioning this third and final song for the week. It comes from an artist who definitely understood how to trade his freedom for what he wanted out of life. He did so multiple times in life, and again in death.
The world is behind us
Once a motherfucker get an understandin' on the game, and what the levels and the rules of
the game is
Then the world ain't no trick no more, the world is a game to be played
So, now we lookin' at the world from behind us
They got me starin' at the world through my rearview
Go on, baby, scream to God, he can't hear you
I can feel your heart beatin' fast 'cause it's time to die
Gettin' high, watchin' time fly
-Tupac A. Shakur
“Starin’ Through My Rear View”
Love you homie, see you soon. I got a game to finish.
-Will
Xavier’s guitarist also has a visceral talent that runs deep. Thank you for sharing this. The music really speaks to me.
I read the first three sentences and I totally agree. Go to my site to see my new one. b.t.w.