An Essay A Day For A Year
By Roe
Day 27, January 27, 2012
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Freedom is philosophical idea they say. Freedom is a political ideal. That’s funny , since philosophy and politics are manifestations of freedom. Perhaps freedom is more than an idea. Every parent knows that the “idea” of freedom is already nicely loaded into the spirits and personalities of all children. Isn’t it funny that children already know and want freedom before reading the great philosophers or practicing the great politics? Everybody wants to be free, and everybody enjoys their freedom. Everyone on Earth has restricted freedoms, and everyone wishes, longs for, fights for, and many even die for their freedoms. It would seem that freedom precedes and takes precedence over most everything in life. I would imagine that breathing, eating, drinking, defecating, and urinating must take precedence over freedom. That’s funny because if you don’t have the freedom to any of those, you have a real emergency and then striving for the freedom to breathe or eat becomes precedent. Freedom comes from the same spring where love and hope emanate. When love shone forth as light the first time, it refracted through the prism of life, and freedom is one of the most beautiful and appreciated spectrum colors of love. Freedom is not an ideal at all, freedom “is”, no less than light is or God is or you and I is. You have the freedom of noticing you don’t have freedom and want freedom, as soon as you don’t have freedom. Freedom “is” until it isn’t, and then we become mighty unhappy. Many people have died for love, a lot more have died for freedom.
The world’s purist hopers and purveyors of freedom are small children, and the smaller the child the purer the purveyor. Any parent knows that when a child’s need to be free is restricted, all hell breaks loose. In my house, with the four spirits that have entrusted me with their freedom, I have personally experienced the American revolution and the Russian revolution and the French revolution virtually every day. It seems that every day there is a conflict between the need to be free, and the inability to actually be free. It seems that the pre Big Bang universal bliss of non existence was the freest state of all, except that “it” wasn’t free enough to manifest. That is like purity and absence in perfect stasis realizing that they were in prison. The revolution said: “We have the freedom to manifest if we want to!” Love and freedom’s answer to that was one hell of a Big Bang.
We adults have lost a lot of freedoms. When we were tiny we were very free, that was until mommy restricted our freedom. We didn’t have a clue yet that the British king was taxing our tea too much, we didn’t know that the Czar was a jerk, or find out that the Queen only would let us eat cake. (Actually, we kids don’t mind the cake lady at all). As time went on we lost more and more freedoms every day. I always thought it was ironic that all the big people believed themselves to be powerful and free enough to teach me how to be free or not free, when these big people had far less freedom than I did. I felt that to be like a frowning clown moping around to give me a class on laughter.
When I questioned the right of an unfree dad to teach me about freedom, I was given a lecture about how I must be prepared for the world, because everyone can’t be free. I pictured my dad on the whipping block taking lashes on his back from the Queen with the cake, and looking up at me, saying: “Do you see now how life is son? Go on son, kiss the lady’s whip just like me, you have to learn that you just can’t have all the freedom’s that you want, just like me.” I didn’t have much respect or admiration for my dad that day “teaching” me about freedom. “I’ll teach you not to hit your sister!”, as he whipped me with his belt more times than I care to remember. Thanks dad, great lesson today. I didn’t have much admiration or respect for him on those days either.
I feel that we children should be giving courses on freedom to the big people who have so little. “Come on Mommy, play with me!” “I don’t have the freedom to play son, I’m a grown up and I have to work.” The funny thing is she said it with a smile on her face, kissing the whip no less than daddy. I remember every pompous adult that gave me a lesson of one kind or another that conflicted with my innate knowledge of freedom. “OK, little Indians!” My kindergarten teacher sung out. “It’s time for our pow wow to stop for now, and we must all lie down for our naps!” I then watched the ridiculousness of the teacher lying down with us pretending to sleep, and the obedient little kiddies all running to get their pads. “I don’t want to be a little injun, and I don’t want to take a nap!” I said. “I want to play and have fun MY WAY!” I said. That went over as well as the Boston tea party and the storming of the Bastille. I clearly remember the sting of my dad’s belt to remind me of how I just couldn’t be free like I wanted. I was told that I had to go to school to learn about things like Indians and taking naps with the others. I clearly remember the western movies on television where the Indians were having their freedoms taken away and fighting and dying for their freedom. I looked at all the adults in puzzlement, like blind people trying to blind me so I could see like them.
I never liked school. I used to just shake my little head back and forth from side to side, I used to roll my eyes, and I used to stand up and announce out loud, “that is complete bullshit”. I was never popular at school, not with all the obedient Indians, but especially not with the teachers. It really seemed like everyone was trying to mold me into being like them, all smart and grown up and big, and proud of their lack of freedoms as they taught me how great America were so free. I watched scenes from all the wars on TV perpetrated by big free American people. I watched free American presidents and free American preachers being gunned down by big free American people, and I watched how the black children who were bused into my free white school got spit on by the same little free Americans from my kindergarten class.
Something was very, very wrong I memorized, luckily just before my freedom of speech and my freedom to have freedom at school were finally extinguished. Later in my education I was given the freedom to be forced to learn about fascism. That was a miracle day for me. Finally everything fell into place and made sense to me. Here is what I learned about fascism:
“Fascism is a governmental system led by a dictator having complete power, forcibly suppressing opposition and criticism”
Yup, that was my schools and teachers.
“Fascism is an authoritarian system of government and social organization with intolerant views and practices”
Yup, that was my schools and teachers.
Here are more definitions of fascism:
Belief that the STATE can transcend social conflict and blend all social classes into a harmonious whole. Belief in the power of POLITICAL IDEOLOGY to transcend human nature and produce a better world.
Promoting a high degree of STATE intervention in personal, social, or economic matters. Belief that the STATE can accomplish anything.
Now let’s add our schools and educational philosophy:
“Belief that the SCHOOL can transcend social conflict and blend all social classes into a harmonious whole. Belief in the power of EDUCATIONAL IDEOLOGY to transcend human nature and produce a better world”
“Promoting a high degree of TEACHER intervention in personal, social, or educational matters. Belief that the TEACHER can accomplish anything.
When I was a small boy, I used to walk into my schools, and listen to my teachers drone on about freedom and how our “education” was so important. I used to think “yikes”, this is a scary world. I think my teacher also lost the real thread of freedom.
When I realized the direct conflict of compulsory schooling with my ability to be free in a supposed free country, I said “yikes”, this is a scary world. I realized that compulsory anything is fascism. Traditional parenting is fascism. I knew that the first time I didn’t get to eat cake, and I learned it much better when I was punished for punishing, to prove I shouldn’t punish. Compulsory schooling is fascism. I knew that the first day I walked into kindergarten. Little white kids forced to go somewhere and play Indian while the weird unfree teacher pretends to take a nap to get us little revolutionaries to sleep is the best definition of fascism I have ever had the misfortune to witness. Then going home to be punished for fighting for my freedom at the school where all little Indians should be forced to take a nap in this great free America, that was fascism in a nut shell. It’s a wonder I’m not in the loony bin or prison or under a park bench with my bottle by now I’m so free. “We’ll teach you all about life little boy, and how you can be free!”
“Mommy, will you play with me?” “No honey, I’m not free like you, I have work to do. Besides, Daddy said you can’t be free to play since you hit your sister again, and you have to go to school now so you can learn all the things to be big and free like your Daddy.”
Yikes.
See You Tomorrow.
yourpersonalmuse@gmx.com
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