Happiness is a Choice

Freedom is a State of Mind

I enjoyed school, grade school, high school, college, and made excellent grades at all levels. Still, if I were asked to explain what freedom feels like, I would suggest that one imagine the last bell ringing on the last day of school.

Growing up in rural Louisiana in the mid-fifties, that last bell signaled long, empty days, like slates to be filled with exciting stories.  My brother and I spent hours wandering in the woods, capturing whatever creature was just a tad slower than either of us.  I would lie on a quilt in the afternoon shade of the house, fantasizing what picture each cloud painted.  In the evenings, we sat on the porch, listening to owls and the occasional whippoorwill that we were sure foretold a death within five days.  Tomatoes and watermelons ripened and were eaten right off the vines.  By August, the muscadines along the creek were ripe and waiting to be consumed.  Ah, summertime for the country kid: I relished those sleepy, easy days.

Then high school came and summertime changed, but it was no less the source of a coveted freedom: summer jobs, a chance to earn my own money.  Even today, I sometimes conjure up that independent teenage feeling of my own dollar in my pocket.  It was that good!  Riding the bus to town to report to work at Kress' five and dime was a privilege and a license to have my own opinions, not paid for by anyone.

College and attendance at Louisiana State University, Alexandria, followed that last high school bell.  I completed three semesters before I walked away. I failed to understand that further institutional education was affordable and available to me.  I had a benefactor, but chose not to reap those benefits, a mistake of youthful misplaced pride.

"Olevia, I'll give you a car to drive, and you can live with us free of charge as long as you go to school."

That was a friend's dad, offering me all the help I needed to get a college degree.  His generous offer came off as confining to me.

"No, Mr. Terrell, I can't do that.  I want school, but I want it on my own terms."

My own terms meant I never got a degree bestowed by any college.  I left Tioga for Dallas, married, had a family, and a successful career.  Still, I regret not having experienced the feeling of freedom that goes with hearing a university's last bell ring.  In my heart of hearts, I know it's still my choice, but that sound would be muted today by age and perspicacity.

Though freedom walks hand-in-hand with education, experience has taught me that more than 'book-learning' is needed.  Awareness and enlightenment, acquired by living a life of curiosity in search of wisdom, increases one's freedom.  The more I open my mind, the greater the opportunity for liberty.  Knowledge frees me from my own misconceptions, intolerances, prejudices and fears.  I search for my own truth, because out of that realization will come unqualified love of myself and the freedom to love others. 

Love in its pure form requires acceptance of myself and others with all the warts and shortcomings we share.  Only then can I experience freedom for my soul and my spirit.

Perhaps, it is only upon hearing the very last bell ring that I will know true and complete freedom.  Until then, I will see through a glass darkly and enjoy each pocket of emancipation as it comes.