Listening to Bob Dylan now, which I haven't intentionally done before. I'm surprised that I haven't. Perhaps out of fear. That I should identify with his music and his writing. And fail to reconcile.
But today I am in exactly that mode. Of early dreams frustrated. Of ambitions abandoned disillusioned. Of a loss of faith in progress. But also a feeling of liberation. Or being thrown into the wild. The great unknown ahead. A heady mix of fear and excitement.
Living with uncertainty and launching into the unknown, taken positively, a pioneer spirit, negatively, foolhardiness. Where there a constant feeling of discomfort. And yet the freedom allures.
What is it about freedom that makes it a value unto itself? Is it really all that it's cracked up to be? Political freedom, moral freedom, economic freedom, financial freedom, freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, freedom to choose, freedom to act, freedom to live, freedom to be. Something so intangible, yet so desired. Something so contentious, yet so accepted.
How does it feel
To be on your own
When no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone
- Bob Dylan, Like a Rolling Stone
Beautiful poetry.
No comments:
Post a Comment