A railtrack in Jordan leading to Wadi Rum
Thoughts

A fleeting moment from the train.

What is freedom? Many people have asked this question. But is there any real answer? I guess the only true answer does not exist...

What is freedom?

Many people have asked this question. But is there any real answer? I guess the only true answer does not exist… In my opinion there are two types of freedom: firstly physical freedom and then some kind of an emotional, inner freedom.

I have to say, I rarely sense this feeling of physical freedom anywhere as strongly as when I’m sitting in a train or bus (funnily enough not in the car…) when the landscape just rushes by.

One is on the way. Anywhere. In some sort of an intermediate state.

You’re not really here and not really there, neither at the starting point nor at the destination.

You can have a coffee and look out of the window, or just ponder your thoughts and think about life.

Leaving Zagreb on a rainy night
A fleeting moment from the train. Leaving Zagreb on a rainy night (2014)

Undisturbed thinking.

It is this peace of mind that means real inner freedom for me.

Not being exposed to the flood of words of other people and their opinions and problems.

If I’m honest and didn’t really know that a partnership (and relationship in general) is good for me, I would like to be alone.

I am not afraid of being alone.

I can travel wherever I want, I can do what I want. I can read, write, be creative, study, take walks. I am not accountable to anyone for where I have been or where I am going. It is this solitude (and I deliberately do not say loneliness!) where I regenerate, recharge my batteries, set goals and make decisions.

And to come to a decision without fear of its consequences is the moment, when I come closest to the concept of freedom. Or like Perikles once said, the secret of freedom is courage.

I want to say for the sons of god,

if you want freedom and joy so much,

can’t you see it’s not anywhere outside of you.

Say you have it and you have it.

Act as it is yours and it is yours.

Messiah’s Handbook (Illusions, Richard Bach)

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