Freedom

When I think of the word freedom, I think of birds. Simply put, I think of what it must be like to be a bird. To have wings, to fly, to navigate through the clouds. It must be magical. Having the ability to watch the world with no attachment from up above. To be on top of the world and be able to look down below and know that you are not confined to what society deems as right or wrong. That is absolute freedom. The idea of just taking off when ever I want. Being able to travel to a different city at my own will. I think of the breeze blowing through my feathers, the rays of the sun, the sound of the wind and the drops of rain. All these mundane things are so uplifting. They are the things we complaint about and take for granted each day. They are the things we experience but are so imprisoned inside our own heads that we forget it even exists. Its those small things that are so great. That is freedom. Free of all thinking and doing. Free to just be. The freedom to be is real freedom.