In his book, "Man's Search for Meaning," Viktor Frankl reflects on his experience as a prisoner in a Nazi war camp. At one point, he tells of the Allies coming to liberate Dachau. When the inmates were released, some of them walked out into the bright sun, blinked hard, looked around nervously, and then turned to re-enter the place of death.
He summed the experience up this way: "So shocking was freedom and so accustomed were they to their bondage, they didn't know what to do with the capacity of freedom."
In contrast, for people in my generation and younger, most of us have virtually no idea what it is like to live without freedom. Paying heartfelt thanks to the First Continental Congress that approved the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, is simply paying lip service to the sacrifices of those before us without having a clue of the debt of gratitude that should be ours.
Do you remember lessons learned about freedom during the magic years of your childhood? Think about the joy, the amazement, the sense of thrill and wonder of catching fireflies and hurriedly putting them in a mason jar. Of course, at the age of three or four, you needed help to put holes in the lid so the fireflies could get air to breathe.
Most parents are a very uncomfortable allowing a four-year-old to play with an icepick. The fireflies were small, but the thing you noticed or discovered is that the fireflies did not want to stay inside the glass jar where you placed them. They wanted freedom.
Isn't the experience of freedom or the need for freedom a longing that we all share? It is true of fireflies. This same was true for our dog Snickers.
If you wanted to disturb a sense of tranquility, all you had to do was try confining Snickers into one room in the house while you were in another part of the house. (Some of you are thinking, "Why would you want to do that?) I want bother to answer, but I guarantee you that if Snickers wanted out, he barked and barked and barked until you relented, gave up and opened the door.
Our old rescue dog was very much like me. He was blind and mostly deaf, but he was loveable. When he first came to live with us, he didn't bark for the first four days. I remember breathing a sigh of relief when he finally found his voice and could express himself.
Don't we all want that? The ability to articulate our needs and wishes and have a seat at the table. Without that privilege, we don't have the sense that we belong. Without that freedom, we don't have the sense that we are important. Long story short - We don't have the sense that we matter.
I have a friend whose plane went down in Vietnam. He spent several days in the jungle before he was recovered. His wife tells me that although he won't talk about the experience, he still has nightmares associated to it. That was well over five and a half decades ago.
What is freedom? How would you define it? At some level, isn't freedom an experience that expresses itself through unlimited opportunity? I don't know anyone who doesn't desire freedom.
Fifty-seven years ago, Andy Williams recorded the song "Born Free" and the lyrics periodically surface inside my head. Do you remember the words?
Born Free, as free as the wind blows
As free as the grass grows
Born free to follow your heart
Live free and beauty surrounds you
The world still astounds you
Each time you look at a star
Stay free, where no walls divide you
You're fee as the roaring tide
So there's no need to hide
Born free, and life is worth living
But only worth living
'Cause you're born free"
All My Best!
Don
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