That sounds crazy, and even offensive to some, but here me out. I'm not talking about whips and chains, building pyramids or picking cotton. No, I'm talking about the kind of slavery that sets you free.
You see, since I was a young boy, I had always been drawn to the romantic tales of freedom fighters, whether it be Robin Hood, Chief Joseph, Davey Crockett, William Wallace, and a whole bucket more. I wanted to fight for the oppressed and standing in the way of tyrants and giving my life for freedom if necessary.
This rebellious spirit grew in me, deep down to the point that I could not accept anyone telling me what to do. I was going to live life my way, and if you didn't like it sweetheart, we were going to have to part ways. I was going to be free from any and all restraints. A desperado in a way.
I found myself part of a movement that was standing down their oppressive government, and yet, I was being nagged by this voice in my head that was telling me something I didn't want to hear. "You can't win, Milo. Human nature throws itself against your movement, as noble as it may be. You are wasting what precious little life you have for a cause that can never come to fruition", it would say.
I kept pushing it aside, because the cause was all I had to look forward to. It was who I was. Eventually, I had to accept the truth, it was the only way to shut my annoying mind up!
It wasn't long after I cut myself free from activism that I realized how far I had taken that philosophy. I had pushed away loved ones and anyone, really, who thought to disagree with me. I had rebelled myself into loneliness. That was how bad I wanted to be free. I obviously didn't understand what real freedom is.
Real freedom is putting yourself into something that is obtainable; giving of yourself selflessly; making yourself a slave to others. I had to come to that place to realize that living for myself made me bitter and lonely all the time, and that there are people who tried to give of themselves to me, people who tried desperately to help me see, that I hurt.
Real freedom is having a spouse and children, and making yourself their servant, as they make themselves yours out of mutual love for one another. Real freedom is putting your heart mind and soul into something knowing that you are not doing it in vain. Real freedom produces happiness, and even during the rough times, peace of mind. As contradictory as it sounds, real freedom is making yourself a slave to another.
Read more ...
You see, since I was a young boy, I had always been drawn to the romantic tales of freedom fighters, whether it be Robin Hood, Chief Joseph, Davey Crockett, William Wallace, and a whole bucket more. I wanted to fight for the oppressed and standing in the way of tyrants and giving my life for freedom if necessary.
This rebellious spirit grew in me, deep down to the point that I could not accept anyone telling me what to do. I was going to live life my way, and if you didn't like it sweetheart, we were going to have to part ways. I was going to be free from any and all restraints. A desperado in a way.
I found myself part of a movement that was standing down their oppressive government, and yet, I was being nagged by this voice in my head that was telling me something I didn't want to hear. "You can't win, Milo. Human nature throws itself against your movement, as noble as it may be. You are wasting what precious little life you have for a cause that can never come to fruition", it would say.
I kept pushing it aside, because the cause was all I had to look forward to. It was who I was. Eventually, I had to accept the truth, it was the only way to shut my annoying mind up!
It wasn't long after I cut myself free from activism that I realized how far I had taken that philosophy. I had pushed away loved ones and anyone, really, who thought to disagree with me. I had rebelled myself into loneliness. That was how bad I wanted to be free. I obviously didn't understand what real freedom is.
Real freedom is putting yourself into something that is obtainable; giving of yourself selflessly; making yourself a slave to others. I had to come to that place to realize that living for myself made me bitter and lonely all the time, and that there are people who tried to give of themselves to me, people who tried desperately to help me see, that I hurt.
Real freedom is having a spouse and children, and making yourself their servant, as they make themselves yours out of mutual love for one another. Real freedom is putting your heart mind and soul into something knowing that you are not doing it in vain. Real freedom produces happiness, and even during the rough times, peace of mind. As contradictory as it sounds, real freedom is making yourself a slave to another.
