These Are My JOTtings...

Liberty vs. Freedom

Is liberty the same thing as freedom?

Is form the enemy of expression?

Is structure the element of contemporary existence from which today's human must flee?

Is it possible to be truly free without some container in which to carry our freedom?


One would suppose that a fish, which is a house pet, could be told, "You are at liberty to swim wherever you wish to swim. However, your freedom to jump out of the fishbowl has the potential of negating all future freedom to do anything at all."

The artist, who chafes at the rules of artistic structure, is still bound by the use of some form or structure (aka medium) or that artist's expression is effectively a moot point.


The human in many modern societies is at liberty to pursue whatever vocation or athletic/artistic or other self-expression skill he or she has available within the constraints of one's lifetime. (At least this is the current paradigm of which we are aware.)


As adults we lose loved ones, whom we often feel should have lived longer. This summer's main event was only the most recent in a long line of losses that would fit nicely into the category, "Unfair, (at least from the human perspective.)" As an application, I am now wondering, "What have I done with my life? What am I doing with my life? When my own life is over will my song be fully sung? Will my story be fully written?"

Here are some recent choices at the promptings of such reflections.

I have taken up the viola. (This choice started about 17 months ago.)

I danced in a ballet a couple of years ago and I wish to continue, if for no other reason than to benefit from the exercise.

I have been making needlepoint tapestries and other gifts with threads for the past five or six years.


Why do I want to do all these things as a man, who has lived at least half of his life already?

Why do I want to dance?

Why do I want to play the viola?

Why do I want to make intricate things with my hands?


Why? Because there is a little boy inside of me that has never been allowed to live.


I can't turn back to hands of time and start my life over in the prime of youth to begin a lifetime of doing any of these things, but I can start now living to the fullest in honor of friends and family members, who, in my opinion, died way too early.


I can't bring any of them back, but the most recent passing last month has fanned a flame in my spirit that wants to press on, though the way seems so difficult at times.


My thoughts in this post are no doubt a result of two important events in my life, that have happened just this week.


Yesterday, my viola teacher taught me the next section in the "Bourrée" by G. F. Handel that was the source of the quip post in my Notebook, a couple of days ago. I had to make my fingers dance on the high end of the "A" string. The sounds were pinched and unnerving. I was on the brink of discouragement, but I determined to go on. The one thing I have learned about the strings, thus far, is "Keep moving the bow!" Sooner or later something will click.


The other event was actually the first. I attended an adult ballet class on Tuesday evening. It only meets once a week, but it gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I can improve my health, looking like a man, who is still somewhat light on his feet. Somehow I have to lose a bit of this girth if I am ever going to fold my chest onto my legs. However, I did hold my balance "on point" for a respectably long time. This gives me hope. Wonderfully, some time ago my best friend's second daughter, who has been taking ballet for years, told me that I have "good turn-out," which means that I do a comfortable "First Position."

What does this all mean for the discussion of "Liberty vs. Freedom?"

I don't have the freedom to ignore the constraints of my body at my present age, but I have the liberty to explore new talents that emanate from my core, even pushing the limits of my body within reason.


That is, no doubt, the cause for my first novel rough draft, even though it still sounds like that squeaky "A" string in so many ways. Somehow I have to push through, redoubling my efforts to work on it, realizing that something will click, sooner or later, if I will just continue to write.

Freedom to go back and redo that which was lost is forever out of my reach, but I have the liberty to start today, living a better future. Thank you to everyone, who is now a fond memory, including Stefan, for prompting me to live more fully, even without your knowing it.

I am exceedingly grateful to Lostwordsmith for choosing my poem in today 24 Syllable Contest because it fits so well with the subject of this post that I want to end this entry with it. I want mine to be a life lived well. That is why my constant prayer is worded, "Lord, help me to finish well."

Pebble in the lake.
Ripple out for all to see.

Music,
Fam'ly,
Work,

A life lived well
touches all.

by Jay O'Toole
on August 24th, 2018