The Myth of Freedom

¡Hola! Everybody...
The midterm elections are coming up and I fear too many people fail to understand exactly what hangs in the balance. In a very real way, how we define freedom and the kind of sciety we want to create is what is at stake. I know many so-called progressives are angry and even disillusioned, but disengaging from the political process is no different from cutting off your nose to spite your face. More on freedom tomorrow on Subversify...

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-=[ The Myth of Freedom ]=-
“A man is either free or he is not. There cannot be any apprenticeship for freedom.”
-- Imamu Amiri Baraka (1934 –)
American playwright, poet, novelist, essayist

I once became lost in a national park in Connecticut many years ago. I was about 19-20, a busload of us city kids planned a trip, and we all trekked up to some park in Armpit, USA. I am a dyed-in-the-wool city boy. And when I say city, I mean city. Please, I’ve traveled around this country and some places that use the term “city” are laughable. Yes, I am a NYC snob: anything above 14^th street for me is Hicksville. Anyway, grew up in the city and the first time I saw a hog live, I thought it was a cow! When I thought of pigs, what came to mind was that pig Arnold from the 1960s TV sitcom, “Green Acres”

Whatever… always the adventurous one, I convinced another poor soul to go “exploring” with me. We got lost for close to 48 hours. LOL! We kept walking in circles. There was this lake not too far from our campsite, you see, and I (being the “Brainiac” of the two) surmised if we followed the lakeshore, we would eventually end up where we started. The thing is we kept walking in circles, not around the lake, but within a confined space. We realized this after hours of walking because we kept seeing a rock formation that looked eerily familiar. The reason for that was that it was the same rock formation! LMAO! By this time, it had gotten dark and there was a pronounced early October chill. Too add to matters, my poor friend had inadvertently fallen into a cascade that hid a cave – he was freezing, but we thought the cave was the best place to stay for the night.

We had nothing – no matches, flashlight, compass, food – nada. We had to stop because of that annoying tendency towards complete darkness in the country. I mean, you can’t even see your own fuckin hand in front of your face. Sheeesh! More troubling, I swore I heard a wolf’s howl. I’m serious! Now, I don’t know if wolves actually exist in some Connecticut state park, but to this day, I swear I heard a howl! In addition, I didn’t make things better by voicing my conviction that the cave we had taken refuge in was some Grizzly bear’s home.

So, there were, hungry, cold, and lost.

Eventually, we somehow found our way to a road the next day, but they had a whole posse of people looking for us, which ruined the trip for everyone else. We walked down the road until we came upon some ranger in a car who then proceeded to ask us if we had seen two Puerto Rican kids walking around lost… DUH?!?! Hellloooo?!?! Fuckin’ hicks…

Of course, being the philosophically inclined one, I found all sorts of metaphors and meaning behind our little adventure, while my companion, who was freezing to death, cursed me the whole time. Still, it fascinated me that, left to our own devices, we kept walking around in circles. Shit, we tried to walk differently, making lefts, where we had previously made rights, and still we walked in circles. What does that say about our own habitual patterns, I asked my friend, as he conjured new swear words in my honor.

For the next fifteen years of my life, that incident was to become a metaphor for how I lived: doing what I wanted, how I wanted, when I wanted, and mistaking that for freedom. I think many people mistake “following their bliss” for freedom when in actuality walking around in circles without a compass is the ultimate prison. It’s the ultimate prison because we can’t see the bars, for they exist in our minds. We’re all “doing time,” when we come to think of it.

True freedom, for me anyway, takes practice. Actually, it takes a set of practices that serve as a guideline and map to freedom. Walk around rudderless without direction long enough and you’ll find you’re creating the same wreackage repeatedly.

Habitual Patterns

I like to joke that I became free while I was incarcerated but this is very true. Many years after that incident in the woods, I found myself at a maximum-security “facility.” LOL! I’m not proud of that, but I have to admit there’s some irony in this story -- at least for me there is, so I find some humor in all this now. when I became free, it was early spring, my favorite time of the year, and I was in a prison yard looking at some mountains and feeling really depressed about being locked up.

Then the realization hit me... I was actually free. Just like that. I realized that though I was physically incarcerated, only I could give anyone permission to imprison my mind. It may not sound like a lot to you, but for me it was transformative experience. The fact that I could choose to be free no matter where I found myself was an option I had never entertained and it literally blew me away.

Looking back, I understand now that this shift in consciousness didn’t happen all at once, that my epiphany that day wasn’t something entirely spontaneous. I understand now my realization came about because of the inner psycho-spiritual work I had put in, but it hit me that day like a bolt of lightning in the middle of a completely dark country night: I was free. Free, right then, at that very moment.

It was an amazing realization. I could choose to be free. a part of me struggled with this -- this couldn’t possibly be so simple and so true. Nevertheless, I felt it in the very fiber of my being, this freedom was real, palpable, a part of me, an uncovering of my heritage as a human being. When I went back to my cell later that day, I shared my revelation with my neighbors and they all started laughing at me. They were like, “Eddie, you in jail, bro!”

And they were correct, of course, I was in prison . However, my realization was that while I could be coerced into prison physically, only I could give another permission to incarcerate my heart and mind. What I saw clearly for the first time in my life was that I was giving the prison authorities this permission to take my mind, to imprison my heart. From that day on, I became free and my life, even within the prison walls, changed dramatically. I no longer was at the mercy of sadistic prison guards or all the other insanity that goes on in prison. From that day on, I was free -- really free -- and all my interactions reflected this realization of freedom. What happened was that people began responding to me differently: guards, who previously were able to press my buttons, didn’t know how to deal with the newer, free me, leaving them confused and anxious.

Other inmates would ask me why I “looked” different: was I exercising more? did I gain weight? Eventually, freedom would influence my immediate surroundings and those in contact with me began doing their own inner work, in the process transforming our collective prison experience. The effect was so palpable that I was eventually transferred from that location because I was deemed too dangerous. LOL! But by then it was too late, even in solitary confinement, they couldn’t take my freedom away.

I became free that early Spring day and though there are times I choose to give up my freedom -- especially when I come into contact with people with hate in their hearts -- I have chosen freedom more often than not these past nineteen years. My personal liberation, I have found, is not individual, dedicated solely to me, but instead it comes with a responsibility and an awareness that it affects everything around me. That other prison we all share: the myth that we are separate from others, has also dissolved and as a result your personal liberation is also important to me.

Ultimately, I have learned that my freedom demands I choose happiness. I never even knew I had that choice. It is my responsibility as a human being, actually, this choice. This is why I always say that everything we ever need for our happiness exists right here, right now, this very moment… this very life. This is true whether your prison is made of concrete and bars or psychic cockroaches.

May you all know true happiness… and freedom.

Love,

Eddie

Sunday Sermon [The Myth of Freedom]

¡Hola! Everybody…
I’m happy to say that while my back continues to plague me, treatment and some lifestyle changes have made it bearable. Sitting for extended periods is still a no-no, however. Thanks again to all who sent me good wishes and who expressed their concern.

* * *

The Myth of Freedom

A man is either free or he is not. There cannot be any apprenticeship for freedom.
-- Imamu Amiri Baraka (1934 -)

I once became lost in a Connecticut national park many years ago. I was about 19-20 years-old, a busload of us city kids planned a trip, and we all trekked up to some park in Armpit, USA. I am a dyed-in-the-wool city boy. And when I say city, I mean city. Please, I’ve traveled around this country and some places that use the term “City” are laughable. Yes, I am a NYC snob: anything above 14^th street for me is Hicksville. Anyway, grew up in the city and the first time I saw a live pig, I thought it was a cow! When I thought of pigs, what came to mind was that pig Arnold from the 1960s TV sitcom, “Green Acres.”

Whatever… always the adventurous one, I convinced another poor soul to go “exploring” with me. We got lost for close to 48 hours. We kept walking in circles. There was this lake not too far from our campsite, you see, and me being the “Brainiac” of the two decided if we followed the lakeshore, we would eventually end up where we started. The thing is we kept walking in circles, not around the lake, but within a confined space. We realized this after hours of walking because we kept seeing a rock formation that looked eerily familiar. The reason for that was that it was the same rock formation! LMAO! By this time, it had gotten dark and there was a pronounced early October chill. to compound matters, my poor accomplice had inadvertently fallen into a cascade that hid a cave -- he was freezing, but we thought the cave was the best place to stay for the night.

We had nothing -- no matches, flashlight, compass, food -- nada. We had to stop because of that annoying tendency towards complete darkness in the country. I mean, you can’t even see your own hand in front of your face. Sheeesh! To make matters worse, I swore I heard a wolf’s howl. I’m serious! Now, I don’t know if wolves actually exist in some Connecticut state park, but to this day, I swear I heard a howl! In addition, I didn’t make things better by voicing my conviction that the cave we had taken refuge in was some Grizzly bear’s home.

So there were, hungry, cold, scared, and lost.

Eventually, the next day we somehow found our way to a road, but they had a whole posse of people looking for us, which ruined the trip for everyone else. We walked down the road until we came upon some ranger in a car who then proceeded to ask us if we had seen two Puerto Rican kids walking around lost… DUH?!?! Hellloooo?!?! Fuckin’ hicks… LMAO!

Of course, being philosophically inclined, I found all sorts of metaphors and meanings behind our little adventure, while my companion, who was freezing to death, cursed me the whole time. Still, it fascinated me that left to our own devices, we kept walking around in circles. Shit, we tried to walk differently, making lefts, where we had previously made rights, and still we walked in circles. What does that say about our own habitual patterns, I asked my friend, as he conjured new swear words for my edification.

For the next fifteen years of my life, that incident was to become a metaphor for how I lived: doing what I wanted, how I wanted, when I wanted, and mistaking that for freedom. I think many people mistake “following their bliss” for freedom when in actuality walking around without an inner compass is the ultimate prison. It’s the ultimate prison because we can’t see the bars, for they exist in our minds. We’re all “doing time,” in some way or another.

True freedom, for me anyway, takes practice. Actually, it takes a set of practices that serve as a guideline and map to freedom. Walk around rudderless without direction long enough and you’ll find you’re creating the same mess repeatedly.

Habitual patterns mistaken as freedom

I like to say that I became free while I was incarcerated and this is very true. Many years after that incident in the woods, I found myself incarcerated at a maximum-security “facility.” LOL! I’m not proud of that, but I have to admit there’s some irony in this story -- at least for me there is, so I find some humor in all this now. It was early spring, my favorite time of the year, and I was in a prison yard staring at some mountains far off and feeling really depressed about being locked up.

Then it hit me... I was actually free! Just like that! I realized that though the state had my body, only I could give anyone permission to enslave my mind. It may not sound like a lot to you, but for me it was transformative experience. The fact that I could choose to be free no matter where I found myself blew me away.

Looking back, I understand now that it didn’t happen all at once, that my epiphany that day wasn’t something spontaneous. I understand now, my realization came about because of the work I had put in, but it hit me that day like a bolt of lightning in the middle of a completely dark country night: I was free. Free, right then, at that very moment.

It was amazing. I could choose to be free! OMG!!! This couldn’t be true. Nevertheless, I felt it in the very fiber of my being. This freedom was real, alive, a part of me, a part of my heritage as a human being. When I went back to my cell later that day, I shared my revelation with my neighbors and they all started laughing at me! LOL! They were -- like -- “Eddie, you in jail, bro.”

And they were correct, of course, I was incarcerated. However, my realization was that while I could be coerced into prison physically, only I could give someone else permission to incarcerate my heart and mind. What I saw clearly for the first time was that I was giving the prison authorities this permission to take my mind, to imprison my heart. From that day on, I became free and my life, even within the prison walls, changed dramatically. I no longer felt at the mercy of sadistic prison guards or all the other insanity that goes on in prison. From that day on, I was free, really free, and all my interactions reflected this realization of freedom. What happened was that people began responding to me differently: guards, who previously were able to press my buttons, didn’t know how to deal with the newer, free me, leaving them confused and anxious.

Other inmates would ask me why I “looked” different: was I exercising more, did I gain weight? Eventually, my freedom permeated my immediate surroundings and those in contact with me began doing their own inner work, in the process transforming our collective prison experience. The effect was so palpable that I was eventually transferred from that location because I was deemed too dangerous. But by then it was too late, even in solitary confinement, they couldn’t take my freedom away.

I became free that early Spring day and though there are times I choose to give up my freedom -- especially when I come into contact with people with hate in their hearts -- I have chosen freedom more often than not these all these many years later. My personal liberation, I have found, is not individual, dedicated solely to “me” (mini me?), but instead it comes with a responsibility and an awareness that it affects everything around me. That other prison we all share: the myth that we are separate from others has also dissolved and as a result your personal liberation is also important to me.

Ultimately, I have learned that my freedom demands I choose happiness. I never even knew I had that choice. It is my responsibility as a human being, actually, this choice. This is why I always say that everything we ever need for our happiness exists right here, right now, this very moment… this very life. This is true whether your prison is made of concrete and bars or psychic cockroaches.

May you all know true happiness… and freedom.

Love,

Eddie

Sunday Sermon (The Sound of the Big Bang)

¡Hola! Everybody...
I’ve seen similar posts before, and I would have to honest in admitting that I’ve thought about (if only to chuckle), but I recently read a post regarding cyber relationships and death... Carissa brought this up recently and linked to an article about it (click here).

I have to say I have no contingency plans regarding my online life and my inevitable death. I don’t know how people would react, but this -- my writing -- this is it. Most days I post something here (and elsewhere). I am not ashamed of anything I’ve written and I think that it’s served at least some positive purpose. My only wish -- my only contingency death plan -- would be a hope that when I’m gone from this dimension, some of you would take the time to commit a silent act of kindness in my name.

That should be your prayer for me...

* * *

-=[ The Sound of the Big Bang ]=-

“Let us dare... ”

I never liked chanting -- it makes uncomfortable. But I once went on an extended loving-kindness (metta) retreat and much of the practice involved chanting. Metta chanting is the radiation of loving-kindness towards all beings: May they all be happy and peaceful. Metta chanting is a powerful practice and it was difficult for me because it took me out of my comfort zone.

I do loving-kindness (metta) practice whenever I’m feeling too much anger or resentment. One begins the practice by wishing one’s self peace, happiness, blah blah blah. Eventually, as you get better at it, you extend that loving kindness to people you know and love. The practice progresses until you can radiate loving-kindness to those you’ve had bad experiences. Eventually, as your heart opens, you radiate loving-kindness to those who have caused you great harm.

As I said, it’s a powerful practice, it changes you profoundly. I let go of a lot of hate, fear, and anger doing this practice.

But that fuckin' chanting! LOL

I have found that chanting is halfway between speaking and singing. The tone -- “Ah” -- is considered the first tone, the first syllable, the root. Someone once explained the tone “Ah” as a sound that emanated from the Big Bang. I liked that explanation.

Speak the tone “Ah” in you normal speaking voice. Now, sing the same tone. You will feel a difference. Chanting, I found, is to sing in your speaking voice.

Chant “Ah” with every exhalation for about five minutes. Feel the reverberations spreading outward, penetrating space, and dissolving into all that openness. All words are variations of a universal tone, modifications of the special “Ah.”

Now, no one loves fully and openly all the time, certainly not I. LOL But step back to reflect on what is the general order of your speech. Does it cause your heart to open in love and offer that as a gift, or do your words reflect the fearful contraction of a closed and sterile heart? Are your words barren or are they the fruits of an open and loving heart?

Chanting allows you to open the love in your heart. In the same way, everyday speech creates the same reverberations -- of opening (love) or contraction (fear/ hate). Chant “Ah” until you feel your heart open, a sound of love offering outward to all. Feel how word forms take shape, like waves. “Ah” is the openness of love. Words are its textures.

While speaking (or writing), feel each word and the universal “Ah” love-tone of which it is a modulation. Feel “Ah” as open love. Perhaps we can learn to begin to speak all words as shapes mouthed from the openness of your heart. Think of it as devotional speech modulating “Ah” so that every word released from your lips carries at least some measure of love, opening into space without end.

When I find the intent of my speech veering, I try to practice this chanting -- a connection back to the Big Bang all-pervading modulation of love.

Do I practice it always?

No!

And sometimes love can manifest itself as tough. It’s a spiritual stereotype that we’ll all walk around in blissful levitation. Still, the only antidote I know for the fear, anger, hate and resentment within myself and others is to offer myself as open love. Yeah it’s corny and doesn’t make for much blog drama, but if I died today, would this blog and my speech stand as an adequate testament to my life? Time will only tell...

May I be free from enmity and danger

May I be free from mental suffering

May I be free from physical suffering

May I take care of myself happily

May my parents

teacher relatives and friends

fellow humans

be free from enmity and danger

be free from mental suffering

be free from physical suffering

may they take care of themselves happily

May even the dumb-ass resentful and bitter bitches on the internet be free and happy. LOL!

Okay, that last one doesn’t belong, it’s my addition... *wink*

Below is a beautiful rendition of loving-kindness (metta). Even if you don’t believe any of this shit, it’s powerfully soothing.”

May you all be happy, even those who would wish me harm...

Love,

Eddie

Crafting a Mission

Hola! Everybody... [Note: Today imma try something new... ]

Too often I find people stuck in terms of direction. Ask anyone (including yourself!) right this moment what they deem as their mission in life and you will most likely get a confused look, or the opposite: a jumbled mass of vaguely related (and unrelated) ideas and notions.

If you have no real direction, then how can you expect to arrive at anything? The point is that you don't have to know exactly where you're headed or even what you want to be when you grow up. It's more important to know what you value and how you express those values. If you're clear on that, the rest comes more easily. (I don't believe in a God in the traditional sense, but maybe we can pretend that God = Good Orderly Direction.)

If you fill out the following carefully (read the instructions!), I will help you create a simple one-paragraph mission statement. You can list your answers in the comments section or send them to me in a PM. Believe me when I tell you this is crucial whether you're looking for a job or just trying to find a way to center yourself in this postmodern world gone slightly mad.

One last thing: everybody who does this exercise feels some initial uncomfortability. That's a good thing. It means you're doing something outside your comfort zone -- outside the box.

Got it? Well then, get to it! LOL

* * *

-=[ Exercise: Creating a Mission Statement ]=-

In order for us to succeed, we all need to stand for something, or we’ll fall for anything. One way to create a vision for success is to create a mission statement. Most of us were already on a mission, though not in a positive sense. What we need to do is create a positive mission. Please follow the instructions carefully before doing this exercise.

Positive Qualities:

Enter 5 positive qualities that describe you:

For each quality on the left, describe something you do that expresses it

Example: My willingness to learn	By committing to going back to school
1.	By
2.	By
3.	By
4.	By
5.

Goals: Enter 5 personal or professional goals you would like to accomplish by one year from now:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Please select your Top 3 qualities and your Top 3 goals from those you listed earlier:

Top 3 Qualities	Top 3 Goals
1.	1.
2.	2.
3.	3.

Sunday Sermon (The Myth of Freedom)

¡Hola! Everybody,
My fever is gone (thanks Princess for the bath suggestion ), but I still feel like crap. I feel like grits and eggs this morning… I wrote the following a couple of years ago.

* * *

-=[ The Myth of Freedom ]=-
“A man is either free or he is not. There cannot be any apprenticeship for freedom.”
-- Imamu Amiri Baraka (1934 –)
American playwright, poet, novelist, essayist

I once became lost in a national park in Connecticut many years ago. I was about 19-20, a busload of us city kids planned a trip, and we all trekked up to some park in Armpit, USA. I am a dyed-in-the-wool city boy. And when I say city, I mean city. Please, I’ve traveled around this country and some places that use the term “City” are laughable. Yes, I am a NYC snob: anything above 14^th street for me is Hicksville. Anyway, grew up in the city and the first time I saw a pig live, I thought it was a cow! When I thought of pigs, what came to mind was that pig Arnold from the 1960s TV sitcom, “Green Acres”

Whatever… always the adventurous one, I convinced another poor soul to go “exploring” with me. We got lost for close to 48 hours. LOL! We kept walking in circles. There was this lake not too far from us, you see, and me being the “Brainiac” of the two decided if we followed the lakeshore, we would eventually end up where we started. The thing is we kept walking in circles, not around the lake, but within a confined space. We realized this after hours of walking because we kept seeing a rock formation that looked eerily familiar. The reason for that was that it was the same rock formation! LMAO! By this time, it had gotten dark and there was a pronounced early October chill. My poor friend had inadvertently fallen into a cascade that hid a cave – he was freezing, but we thought the cave was the best place to stay for the night.

We had nothing – no matches, flashlight, compass, food – nothing. We had to stop because of that annoying tendency towards complete darkness in the country. I mean, you can’t even see your own hand in front of your face. Sheeesh! To make matters worse, I swore I heard a wolf’s howl. I’m serious! Now, I don’t know if wolves actually exist in some Connecticut state park, but to this day, I swear I heard a howl! In addition, I didn’t make things better by voicing my conviction that the cave we had taken refuge in was some Grizzly bear’s home.

So, there were, hungry, cold, and lost.

Eventually, we somehow found our way to a road the next day, but they had a whole posse of people looking for us, which ruined the trip for everyone else. We walked down the road until we came upon some ranger in a car who then proceeded to ask us if we had seen two Puerto Rican kids walking around lost… DUH?!?! Hellloooo?!?! Fuckin’ hicks… LMAO!

Of course, being philosophically inclined, I found all sorts of metaphors and meaning behind our little adventure, while my companion, who was freezing to death, cursed me the whole time. Still, it fascinated me that, left to our own devices, we kept walking around in circles. Shit, we tried to walk differently, making lefts, where we had previously made rights, and still we walked in circles. What does that say about our own habitual patterns, I asked my friend, as he conjured new swear words for my edification.

For the next fifteen years of my life, that incident was to become a metaphor for how I lived: doing what I wanted, how I wanted, when I wanted, and mistaking that for freedom. I think many people mistake “following their bliss” for freedom when in actuality walking around in circles without a compass is the ultimate prison. It’s the ultimate prison because we can’t see the bars, for they exist in our minds. We’re all “doing time,” in some way or another.

True freedom, for me anyway, takes practice. Actually, it takes a set of practices that serve as a guideline and map to freedom. Walk around rudderless without direction long enough and you’ll find you’re creating the same mess repeatedly.

Habitual Patterns

I like to say that I became free while I was incarcerated and this is very true. Many years after that incident in the woods, I found myself incarcerated at a maximum-security “facility.” LOL! I’m not proud of that, but I have to admit there’s some irony in this story – at least for me there is, so I find some humor in all this now. It was early spring, my favorite time of the year, and I was in a prison yard looking at some mountains and feeling really depressed about being locked up.

Then it hit me... I was actually free! Just like that! I realized that though the state had my body, only I could give anyone permission to enslave my mind. It may not sound like a lot to you, but for me it was transformative experience. The fact that I could choose to be free no matter where I found myself blew me away.

Looking back, I understand now that it didn’t happen all at once, that my epiphany that day wasn’t something spontaneous. I understand now, my realization came about because of the work I had put in, but it hit me that day like a bolt of lightning in the middle of a completely dark country night: I was free. Free, right then, at that very moment.

It was amazing. I could choose to be free! OMG!!! This couldn’t be true. Nevertheless, I felt it in the very fiber of my being, this freedom was real, alive, a part of me, a part of my heritage as a human being. When I went back to my cell later that day, I shared my revelation with my neighbors and they all started laughing at me! LOL! They were – like – “Eddie, you in jail, bro.”

And they were correct, of course, I was incarcerated. However, my realization was that while I could be coerced into prison physically, only I could give another permission to incarcerate my heart and mind. What I saw clearly for the first time was that I was giving the prison authorities this permission to take my mind, to imprison my heart. From that day on, I became free and my life, even within the prison walls, changed dramatically. I no longer felt at the mercy of sadistic prison guards or all the other insanity that goes on in prison. From that day on, I was free – really free -- and all my interactions reflected this realization of freedom. What happened was that people began responding to me differently: guards, who previously were able to press my buttons, didn’t know how to deal with the newer, free me, leaving them confused and anxious.

Other inmates would ask me why I “looked” different: was I exercising more, did I gain weight? Eventually, my freedom permeated my immediate surroundings and those in contact with me began doing their own inner work, in the process transforming our collective prison experience. The effect was so palpable that I was eventually transferred from that location because I was deemed too dangerous. LOL! But by then it was too late, even in solitary confinement, they couldn’t take my freedom away.

I became free that early Spring day and though there are times I choose to give up my freedom – especially when I come into contact with people with hate in their hearts – I have chosen freedom more often than not these past sixteen years. My personal liberation, I have found, is not individual, dedicated solely to “me” (mini me? LOL!), but instead it comes with a responsibility and an awareness that it affects everything around me. That other prison we all share: the myth that we are separate from others has also dissolved and as a result your personal liberation is also important to me.

Ultimately, I have learned that my freedom demands I choose happiness. I never even knew I had that choice. It is my responsibility as a human being, actually, this choice. This is why I always say that everything we ever need for our happiness exists right here, right now, this very moment… this very life. This is true whether your prison is made of concrete and bars or psychic cockroaches.

May you all know true happiness… and freedom.