author of the oarsman
February 28, 2017

I rode my bike today and realized I was free.

This was not from the air painting dances on my skin, nor the watching mountains and trees along the trail, nor even the beautiful sunshine brightening my mood.

A man who had spent twenty-plus year depressed, who had contemplated and attempted suicide decades ago, was now free.

This freedom did not mean no sadness, nor a cocoon of happiness, but something more mature.

This was freedom through no doubt about my true nature, from feeling awareness expanded to include the world whenever I stopped and looked for myself.

This was freedom through knowing that at any time I could feel the pain of an emotion, or I could dive into it and see it again as love, as two hands enjoying a game of separation before re-clasping.

This was freedom through feeling connected to the trees, mountains, sky, trail, and bicycle, as little arcs of exploding consciousness arising out of my heart — theheart.

This was freedom through being the owner and the ownerless, from straddling the personal and divine, and reconciling the two.