Freedom and the things of state

This is the final entry in my latest journal, covering mid-September to the end of January. It’s been a tumultuous fall and winter “out there.” The bolshevik revolution is in full swing, and who knows how much longer I’ll be able to write and speak my mind? At least as long as people manufacture books with blank pages, there will be sanctuary.

I try to send optimism and hope into the world, or at least a bit of sanity. Days come and go when I despair over the state of things, of course, because the state of things grows more dire as the things of state gain more and more power.

But the space between my ears is as free as ever, fragile though that space may be, and it will be ever so while this trusty heart is pumping away.

And as long as free women and men walk the planet, it’s going to be all right. And since freedom is endowed on every living soul from birth, it will be ever so.

“Who knows how long I’ll be able to write and speak my mind?” I asked up there. Answer: As long as my mind is able. The question is more “Who knows how long I’ll be permitted to write and speak my mind freely?” and those days seem to be growing shorter.

But spring will be here in two months, and the days are literally growing longer. There are seasons of freedom and tyranny just as there are spring, summer, fall, and winter, and the time will come when the free will marvel at how much power was given to the censors and other bullies of our time.

Some wish to resolve our differences with guns and bombs and screams and violence, but those inevitably lead to a response of more guns and bombs and screams and violence. A gentle word turns away wrath — eventually. Reason is superior to brute force, although reasonable people need to bear many scars before they succeed. Peace through reason has a longer shelf life than peace through war, however. More people seek the words of the peacekeepers — Gandhi, MLK, Thoreau — than those of the assassins.

Sometimes I forget and join the chorus of anger, because I too am human — or I am too human. On the days when I turn from anger and seek peace, I find freedom.

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, a golden retriever named Dejah Thoris Princess of Mars, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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