Buddhism and the True Cost of Freedom 

None of us is truly free. We are all truly connected. But we sometimes value this ideal of freedom more than life itself, as if having a child were more of a burden than a blessing, as if having a car were more important than having a home. But if any one of us were to truly experience this blessed freedom, then we probably wouldn’t really want it. We worship the idea of freedom, not the thing itself. But this is a hard lesson for a red-blooded American, we of the ‘warrior ethos’ and the mid-morning coffee break. 

So, when we want a healthy dose of that much-vaunted freedom, we ‘go driving’ with the top down, preferably, and foot to the floor, definitely, heads out the window, like dogs with dark glasses and tongue lapping lips. Meanwhile, the Europeans look skeptical and all for good reason. Because it’s not sustainable, that’s why. It’s the same old myth of abundance, wherein not only do we want our own healthy dose of infinity, but we want it filled to overflowing with our own stuff, whether it be physical things or memorable experiences.  

And memories are one of the most cruel tricks of possession, because then and there we categorize our experiences for safe keeping according to size and shape, use and abuse. But those are just dead forms and figures, with little application to today’s needs. We put them on walls and pedestals, adjusted for height and shape. But nothing really works, and any salutary effect is very short-lived. The freest person on this earth is that orange-robed monk walking nowhere fast and dedicated to making it last.