“The truth shall make you free.”
John 8:31
JUAN AND HIS FREEDOM
But what is freedom?
From the beginning, when Juan began to
breathe and open his eyes, he believed that he was born to be free. Freedom is
God’s gift. Freedom is a natural right.
He believed that he was a free man. He
has the freedom to breathe, freedom to open his eyes, freedom to close his
eyes, freedom to see, freedom to hear, freedom to smell, freedom to talk,
freedom to think, freedom to sleep, freedom to wake up, freedom to eat, freedom
to drink, freedom to walk, freedom to run, freedom to play, freedom to know,
freedom to write, freedom to read, freedom to fall in love, freedom to be
happy, freedom to be sad, freedom to be angry, freedom to imagine, freedom to
dream, freedom to live, freedom to be himself.
But then, he discovered that he was not
free. He discovered the following from his parents, from his world:
He can breathe. But to breathe, he needs
oxygen so he is a slave of oxygen. He can control his eyes but not most of the
time. He opens his eyes but then, in just a second, they close themselves and
open themselves again. They blink! He is a slave to his own eyes. He can see
but he can’t see all things. He can’t look at the sun. He can’t see ghosts. He
can’t see everything at once. He is still a slave of his eyes. He can see but
he can’t see all types of scenes in the world. He can see but he is forbidden.
He is forbidden to see sex, to see violence, to see vices, to see the truth. He
does not even know why people consider them as “bad.” He is a slave of this
world where these “bad” things exist. He has eyes but he can’t see everything,
forbidden to see everything. He is then sometimes blind.
He can hear but he can’t hear everything.
He can’t hear everything at once. He can hear but he is forbidden. He is
forbidden to hear “bad” words which he don’t even know why people consider them
“bad.” He has ears but he can’t hear everything, forbidden to hear everything.
He is then sometimes deaf. He can smell but he can’t smell everything. He can
smell the smoke and the garbage but he should not. He has nose but he can’t
smell everything, forbidden to smell everything. He is slave of his ears. He is
a slave of his nose. He is a slave of this world where these “bad” things
exist.
He can talk but he can’t say everything.
He can’t say everything at once. He can talk but not all words. He can say
“bad” words but he is forbidden to say “bad” words which he don’t even know why
people consider them “bad.” He can tell lies but he is forbidden to say lies.
He has the voice, the lips, but he can’t say everything, forbidden to say
everything. He is a slave of his voice, of his lips. He is a slave of this
world where these “bad” things exist.
He can think but he can’t think
everything at once. He can think but there are things he should not think. He
should not think of things like what if God does not exist all. He should not
think of how his parents have sex. He should not think of his sexual dreams to
the people he meet. He should not think of killing. He should not think of
stealing. They are “bad.” He has the brain but he can’t think everything,
forbidden to think everything. He is a slave of his brain, of his mind. He is
slave of this world where these “bad” things exist.
He can sleep but he can’t sleep forever.
He is dead once he did. He wakes up. Sometimes, he closes his eyes to sleep but
he can’t sleep. Sometimes, he wants to wake up but he can’t. Sometimes, he
wants to stay awake but he can’t. He is a slave of sleeping and waking up.
He can eat, he can drink, but he can’t
eat everything, he can’t eat forever, he can’t drink everything, he can’t drink
forever. He can eat, he can drink, but when it comes to other things, he is not
allowed. He can eat himself but he should not. He can eat people but he should
not. He can eat his excretions but he should not. He can eat decays but he
should not. He can eat plastics and metal but he should not. He can drink his
urine but he should not. He just needs a little time to eat and drink. He just
needs a “right” amount to eat and drink. He should work for food and water. He
is a slave of his mouth. He is a slave of this world where these “bad” things
exist.
He can walk, he can run, but he can’t
walk or run on everything, he can’t walk or run forever. He can’t walk or run
on the water, he can’t walk or run on the clouds. He can’t walk or run for
years without a rest. He is a slave of his own feet.
He can play but not everything. He can
know but not everything. He can write, he can read, but not everything-
everything he can’t or he does not know. He can fall in love but not on
everyone. He can be happy, but not always. He can be sad, but not always. He
can be angry, but not always. He can imagine but he can’t make it true just by
imagining. He can dream but he can’t achieve just by dreaming. He can fall in
love but he might be a slave of a woman, a slave of his feelings. He can live,
but not forever as there is also a freedom to die. He can be himself but not if
he is not the one who makes his life. He is a slave of others. He is a slave of
the world. He is a slave of nature. He is a slave of necessity. He is a slave
of his life. He is a slave of time. He is a slave of being human. He is a slave
of his own. And at the same time... he is the master of these things! He is
born with all these freedom.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
A CAGED BIRD ON HIS NEST
And so Juan was born as a man, not a
woman. He can be a woman but not for everyone, not for everyone who knows he is
a man, not for everyone who judges him. He is a slave of himself. He is a slave
in this world. He is born with his name. He can change his name but not for
everyone, not for everyone who knows his name, not for everyone who hates his
name, not for everyone who judges him. He is a slave of his parents. He is a
slave in this world. He was born with his own parents. He can change his
parents but not for everyone, not for everyone who knows his parents, not for
everyone who judges him. He is a slave of his parents. He is a slave of the
world.
He was told to become a nurse but he told
himself that he will not for he told himself that he will be a writer. He was a
slave of his parent. He was told to someday marry a woman, a rich woman he does
not even love. He was a slave of his parents. He was a slave of his feelings.
He is told to wake up early, to go to school, to study, to bring honor, to
work, to help them but he told himself that he will not. They keep on telling
him the same things but he keeps on ignoring their words.
Juan ran away from his home thinking his
parents delayed his freedom, thinking his parents denied his freedom. He told
these things to himself... but he did not tell these things to his parents, to
the world. Juan, himself, delayed and denied his freedom. Juan, himself, does
not understand the freedom that his parents give to him. Juan, himself, does
not understand that he is not always a slave of his parents, he is sometimes the
master of his parents. Parents are masters of their children. Parents are
slaves of their children. Parents are slaves of time in watching their children
grow, in watching their children search for freedom.
And no, children are not searching for
freedom, they are searching for independence. Parents giving too much freedom
kill their children. Parents giving zero freedom kill their children. They are
not caged birds. They are free birds trying to prove that they can stand on
their own, that they can soar by their own. Once they fall, they try to fly
again. They become caged birds, caged within their pride. Once they soar, they
believe they can do it again. They become caged birds, caged within their
pride. They become prisoners of themselves, prisoners who think they are free
and independent.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
SCHOOL PRISONER
Along his way, Juan encountered his
teacher. The teacher told him to go to school, to study but he told himself
that he will not. He once believed that he will be free from his home, from his
prison. He once believed that he will be free in the outside world. But alas,
he is not free. He is not free to fight with children. He is not free to be
absent in the class. He is not free to leave the room, the school, whenever he
likes. He is not free to cut his class. He is not free to go to school without
his id, to go to school without his uniform, to go to school with a long hair,
to go to school with piercing, to go to school with tattoos on his body. He is
not free to be noisy during the class. He is not free to get zero, to fail, to
get mistakes, in his exam. He is not free to cheat during exam. He is not free
to make his projects, to submit them on deadlines. He is not free to submit
them late. He is not free to kill students, to kill teachers, to destroy the
school. Education is not free, we pay fees.
He can do these things but his parents,
the teachers, told him that he should not. They are just abilities,
possibilities. They are not permitted. They are laws to be obeyed. They are
rules, golden rules. But why does a law exist? Who made these laws? We can have
our own law! And this law is to be free in everything!
He is
not free in the school. The school is a prison. The teachers are his masters.
It is reflection of his home as his prison and his parents as his masters. He
can just be free if they give him this freedom, if he can just buy the school,
the prison, the teachers, the masters, if he can buy his freedom.
The teacher sighed, speechless on how she
will understand Juan, on how she will begin to explain. But Juan ran away. He
forgot that these rules are on the right track while his freedom is on the
wrong way. He believed that teachers delayed and denied his freedom… again! But
he forgot that he can never have the freedom to achieve his dreams without
following these school rules. We are given a freedom to commit mistakes and a
freedom to fail so that we can learn. Freedom is not just a right, it is also a
responsibility. He can understand freedom but not its meaning. He can
understand its meaning but not its real meaning.
The teacher then remembered that she is
not always a master. She is sometimes a slave. She is a slave with five
masters. She is a slave of these students, students who think they are slaves
so they are searching for freedom, students who do not even know that they are
masters. She is a slave of time in teaching these students. She is a slave of
her family who needs her. She is a slave of her wage thinking it will be enough
for them. She once dreamed to be a teacher and now that she is a teacher, she
wants freedom for herself. She is a slave of her own. She is a slave not
sometimes… but most of the times! She cried but there is still hope to think of
it. It is not yet too late...
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
THE LOST ROAD OF FREEDOM
Juan found himself on the road with
nowhere to go. With nothing to do, he quickly waved his hand to approach a taxi
driver as if he has somewhere to go. The taxi driver asked him where to take
him. But Juan is thinking deeply, looking into nowhere, speechless. So the taxi
driver repeated his words. And finally Juan heard him.
“Where to?” the taxi driver asked.
“To nowhere...” Juan answered.
“To nowhere?” The taxi driver looked at
him with a serious face.
“I mean… to somewhere,” Juan changed his
answer.
“Somewhere? Somewhere what? Over the
rainbow? Do you really know the address of the place? Are you really going
somewhere?” The taxi driver might reach his limits.
“Ok then. Then I will just tell you the
directions. I will tell you when to stop. I will tell you where to stop,”
Juan proposed.
The taxi driver said no words.
Juan smiled. He used to think that
drivers are masters but finally! Finally, he found a slave! He is a master at
last! The taxi driver is a follower!
While Juan was on his way seventh heaven,
the driver paused his taxi to approach a teenage lady who waved her hands. He
can’t be mistaken. He saw it on his side mirror.
And so the taxi driver looked behind to
ask the lady where to take her. But the lady looked at his face. The lady
looked at his beard. The lady thought he is a maniac! The lady left the taxi
with an angry face. The poor taxi driver lost a passenger. But Juan was filled
with joy as he, himself, discovered a slave.
Another passenger came. This time, it was
a man. But the man seemed to melt as he can’t feel the breeze of the aircon.
The man requested the taxi driver to turn the temperature into its coldest
state. But alas, it was already in its freezing point stage. So the taxi
driver, fearing he will lose another sheep, pretended to turn its knob. But the
scene went on like this. The man was already fastening the buttons of his shirt
as he will die because of an overheat. He was already taking his clothes off.
He was already using the newspaper as his fan.
Who is this man? Does he live in the
desert? Juan and the taxi driver was already freezing to death but this
man is still looking for the coldest breeze he can feel. The man can’t take it
anymore. So he pretended that he forgot something and took himself out. Juan
reached another level of happiness. The poor taxi driver lost another
passenger. Juan found a slave!
Another boarded the taxi. It was a young
man. The young man soon discovered the radio and he changed the station. But
the station he would like to hear can’t carry a good reception inside the taxi.
Only statics can be heard. As expected, the young man found himself leaving the
taxi. The poor taxi driver lost another one. Juan was already holding his head
high as if he was a master.
Then, it was now the turn of an old lady.
She came from the market for sure. But this old lady spilled her bagoong
on the carpet floor of the taxi. Without hesitation, the old lady left the
taxi. Another came and it was a big mama with a crying baby. And the baby was
crying because of his “pooh-pooh.” So the big mama changed its diaper and there
exploded a bomb worse than an atomic bomb. With the taxi perfumed with this
smell, the big mama was so sorry of what she did. But she was even sorry for
leaving the taxi.
It was a disaster for the taxi driver.
But the real disaster for him was now the falling rain! Juan can’t understand
why. But he soon understood when a wet man came inside the taxi and inside came
a flood of water from the wet man. It was accompanied by stains and smells no
one would like to imagine! The taxi driver can’t do anything. He needs to earn.
He is a bread winner. He is a slave of his family. He is gifted with a soft
heart so he took the wet man. He is a slave of his conscience. A good thing
just came! The wet man stayed for not too long.
So the taxi driver just sighed thinking
he was a loser. But his despairs were cleared when another passenger came
inside. It was an office lady. She does not care about the stains of the taxi
and the perfume it released. And she was in a hurry! It was a rush hour! For
her, it was such an emergency! She can’t be late! It was a meeting, an appointment!
So the driver put his speed on its peak and boom! The taxi just passed one,
two, three cars at once without thinking about the enforcers and the traffic
lights! He is a slave of traffic laws. The drivers of those cars have thrown
their “bad” words on the taxi driver. But to believe it or not, the office lady
was not thankful. She was angry for that risk! She was shameful for what
happened!
Juan was dying inside. He was the
happiest man on Earth.
And yes, passengers in these times are
choosy. They choose taxis. They choose drivers. They are searching for a fast
trip. But they are searching for a safe trip. They are also looking for a clean
atmosphere. They are also looking for a good driver, not just good in skills
but good in face! They do not even know that nothing is perfect, no one is
perfect.
The poor taxi driver does not even have
the freedom to choose his passengers. He needs them more than they need him! He
sometimes imagines some things that may happen. What if one of the passengers
is a killer? He is the first one to die for his back can be the first target.
He can do nothing for his eyes are on the road as his hands are on the wheel.
All his passengers will die. It is during these times that he is a master of
these passengers for he may choose to deliver them into their deaths. Their
lives are on his hands. It will be his fault. He will be an outcast in the
society. He will be so guilty.
He is a slave of these passengers. He is
a slave of traffic rules. He is a slave of time. He is a slave of his family.
He is a slave of his conscience. He is a slave of himself. He is a slave! He
sometimes thought of changing himself into another profession. It is not yet
too late.
But it was now too late for Juan to
realize that he can’t pay the taxi driver. His pocket only holds a piso!
So without any doubt, Juan took himself out and confessed the truth. The
taxi driver reached his limits but he can’t be angry. The customer is always
right. He is a slave of this policy. He is a slave of his conscience…
again!
“Thank you po,” Juan used these
words to bid farewell to the poor taxi driver. And deep inside him, he was
feeling so sorry for what he did. He thought to himself that the taxi driver
was so angry… for sure.
But in just a second, he found himself in
this paradise where he made something good to someone. The taxi driver was on
the verge of his tears. Juan can’t understand why. Here is the fact. It’s been
ages since there is someone who erased his exhaustion with those words, those
words of gratitude and respect. It is the greatest gift he received from a
passenger. It is more than enough. Juan has given him more than enough. And so,
a bright day for a taxi driver is now waiting… It is another day for him. He is
driving with a smile. He can already forget that he is a slave in the lost road
of freedom…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
HELLO STRANGER
But what is freedom?
He still does not know the answer.
He asked some students. He asked a
tricycle driver. He asked a computer shop manager. He asked a store owner. He
asked a fortune-teller. But they all had the same answer.
“KALAYAAN!”
They delivered this answer with pride and
smile. Until now, this word echoes on the eardrums of Juan.
But then, he asked for its meaning not
for its translation. They have the same answer. What the hell is happening?
But there is something that he does not
know. He will get an answer, a good answer. Someone is waiting for him…
He was walking upon a bridge. And someone
caught his attention. A man was walking here and there like he was waiting for
someone, like he waiting for a right time.
1… 2… 3… Within three seconds, the man
was on the waters! He jumped!
1… 2… 3… Within three seconds, Juan
jumped through the waters!
But alas, he forgot something… He forgot
that he does not even know how to swim!
There were just flashes of actions in his
eyes. After these, full blank of silence came. He closed his eyes still
thinking of the man…
1… 2… 3… Juan opened his eyes and he was
soaking wet. His body was on a bench. It was the park!
But he was not alone… The man was with
him.
“Why did you jump through the waters? You
don’t even know how to swim,” the man drew out these words.
Juan can’t speak. He does not know what
to say.
“Why?” the man repeated.
“It’s because…”
“Because of what?” the man replied.
“It’s because I am a slave of myself. My
body moved on its own to jump through the waters,” Juan finally answered in
more than three words.
Another sound of silence followed the
conversation…
“An instinct… A reaction… God is such a
wise being,” the man whispered into himself.
Juan scratched his head in confusion.
“Then can you please tell me why did you
jump through the waters?” Juan opened a new topic.
But he was surprised with the man’s
answer.
“Freedom is defined as the right to
choose what we want, do what we want, say what we want, have what we want,
think what we want, believe what we want, change what we want, without ignoring
other’s rights, without crossing other’s rights, on what we think and what we
believe is right. It is the power of self-expression and personal
satisfaction.”
Juan was speechless. He was on the
seventh heaven as he finally found someone who can understand him, who can
answer him. It was an answered prayer. His joys filled his heart so he forgot
where he was. His joys filled his heart so he forgot to ask the man why he
jumped through the waters.
“What is your name, Sir?” Juan asked him
with an endless wonder.
But the man did not give him any reply.
Does he have any name? Did he forget his name? Who is this man? Why did he
deliver him a different answer? Why did he jump through the waters? It
does not matter.
“Then I will call you Mr. Stranger. Hello
Stranger!” Juan smiled.
The stranger’s face was nothing but a
blank. There were no feelings painted upon his face. But it was the opposite
for Juan. He was full of smile. He was going crazy.
They were sitting on a bench. Juan lifted
his own hand and touched the stranger’s hand. It was just ok, he thought. Then
his hand crawled down and down and down. His own hand has its own life. It was
touching the stranger’s “little devil.” It was an angry bird. It grew up. He
was full of pleasure that he rested his hand on the stranger’s “little
devil.”
But things turned out like this. The
stranger removed the hand of Juan and stood out. He was angry but he did not
show it. He drew out his words in a calm manner.
“Listen to this. The freedom of your hand
ends where the freedom of my hand begins. The freedom of a person ends when a
freedom of another person begins. You can’t always do what you want and say
that you are free. You can’t always take what you want and say it’s free. Keep
this on your head. Freedom is not absolute. Freedom is not always free.
It is LIMITED,” the stranger emphasized the last word.
But to the man’s surprise, Juan
challenged him with a good question.
“How can a person be free if freedom is
limited?”
The stranger smiled.
“That is an easy one. Number one is
respect. By respecting others’ freedom, they respect your freedom in return. In
this way, both of you is free, both of you is giving freedom to each other, no
one is a master, no one is a slave. Number two is giving. By giving other’s
freedom, they give you freedom in return. Number three is thinking it this way.
No one is free for everyone is free.”
Juan smiled. He was speechless. This man
was such a genius. He would like to give him a round of applause and he would
like to bow his head on him.
He was defeated so another wave of
silence broke into them.
But this time, Juan was looking into the
man’s shorts. He was looking into the man’s “little devil.” It was not angry
anymore. It was calm, as calm as its master.
Juan can’t move on. He was thinking of
this. The man was his master!
But the man read his thought.
“I am not your master. I am your…
teacher,” the man emphasized the last word again.
Juan asked himself. Did the wind whisper
his thought into the man’s ears?
“I know what you are thinking. You are
looking into the “little devil” between my legs. It was an instinct for it to
grow up once it feels pleasure, pleasure from being touched, pleasure from
watching something, pleasure from thinking something,” the man
emphasized the word something for Juan to understand.
“Then we are slaves of our body!?” Juan
gave these words with two motives- to ask and to challenge… again!
“Yes we are. God designed us with such a
beautiful slavery. Without this slavery, we can’t live, we can’t be happy. We
are given this freedom to be hungry, to be thirsty, to be sleepy, so we become
slaves of our body. We are slaves in such a beautiful way. We are given freedom
to breathe to live as we are slaves of oxygen. God created us to need others.
There is more freedom, there is more right, then there is more responsibility.
God made us not just to be free but to be responsible in our own freedom, in
others freedom, to use freedom not in a wise way but in a right way, not to
abuse the freedom of others by using our freedom against them. God made us to
keep our freedom and to use it in a good way,” the man explained.
“Some people consider some freedom is bad
as some of us abuse the freedom of others as some abuse themselves with their
own freedom. We can’t ignore our freedom. We can’t ignore others’ freedom. We
can’t cross others’ freedom. Too much freedom is bad. Zero freedom is bad,”
the man continued.
“But then, why do some people are called
gay?” Juan asked.
“It is because they have the freedom to
be themselves. It is because they have the freedom to express themselves. They
just don’t have the freedom but to courage to fight for what they think is
right, to fight for their freedom. They believe that gender is in the heart,
not in the face, not in the name, not in what is between their legs. They
believe that they should follow their heart. And following their heart is
freedom for them. But some people believe that when a person follows his heart,
he becomes a slave of his heart. Following our heart is one of natural freedom,
an instinct. You don’t think for yourself, you don’t think if it’s right or
wrong, you don’t think of others for you follow your heart. It is the same
thing you feel and you do when you are saving someone you love. You saved me,
not because you love me but you are a good person. You use not your mind but
you follow your heart” the man touched the hands of Juan and brought them into
his chest.
“But why do some people hate them?” Juan
delivered his follow-up question.
“It is because these people are given the
freedom of opinion and freedom of expression. We can’t blame them if they speak
bad words on them for they have the freedom. They fight for the freedom. But
this freedom become bad when their words become lies. But if they are telling the
truth then they have the choice, the freedom to voice out their opinions. They
even have the choice, the freedom to keep the truth within them. If the truth
hurts them or not, it is now up to the gays. If they will listen or not in
others’ words, it is now up to the gays,” the man answered him without even a
pause.
Upon hearing these words from the
stranger, Juan was awakened. And in just a second, Juan was found himself
running through an oval field. He was running without a destination and that
was freedom! He was shouting “bad” words and that was freedom! He was running
naked and that was freedom! He kissed a girl he does not even know and that was
freedom! To live one’s life to the fullest, that’s freedom!
The stranger sighed and whispered, “True
freedom exists. Perfect freedom never exists.”
He was watching Juan, waiting for him to
stop and give up. He looked into the clouds and he whispered into the wind:
“I once searched for freedom. I found it
within these people. I have the freedom to love them. I have given my
freedom for the people I love. I have given my freedom to save the people I
love. But then, I have given them freedom to choose, a choice to love me back
or not, a choice to find another one and forget me, a choice to believe me, a choice
to trust me, a choice to give up believing in me, a choice to free
themselves from me. I have given them freedom, always enough but sometimes more
than enough. And now, they forget to remember me, to thank me. They need me.
They demand for more freedom but freedom can’t be measured, it can just be
tested. And until now, I still love them.”
Juan was finally tired.
“Hey Mr. Stranger, have you seen that?
That is freedom!” he yelled.
But the stranger was now nowhere to be
found.
Does he have any name? Did he forget his
name? Who is this man? Why does he speak in such manner? Why did he jump
through the waters? Where did he go?
It does not matter.
Juan smiled for meeting such an
incredible person. Juan cried for “losing” such “teacher.”
Juan found a child. It was holding two
balloons. It was crying.
“A stranger had bought me these balloons
but I can’t find him. I want to thank him. Mama once told me that he will come
back. She said she would just take a rest. But then, my kuya told me that
she was in the heavens now. She was watching us,” the child explained as he
waved his hands while looking upon the clouds.
“Then let me deliver a message to your
mother and to our dear stranger,” Juan suggested.
And then Juan took his pen and two pieces
of paper. The child wrote for his Mama the words:
“Mama, take a rest there.”
Juan wrote another for the stranger. They
tied these papers into the tails of the balloons and let them fly away with
their hopes that these papers would reach the hands of these important people
in their lives.
At last, Juan read what he wrote in his
piece of paper. He shouted:
“See you soon, Mr. Stranger!”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
FREEDOM FOR A FAMILY
With nowhere to go, Juan was homeless. He
was walking on the streets of the city, a place of social divisions. The upper
class, including the rich, the famous, and the powerful, was hereby displaying
their wealth and elegance, more than enough yet afraid to lose, to share, to
give. The middle class, including the working society, spends the daily race in
work to earn enough for their daily needs. But what bothered us most is now the
lower class, those people who never have enough…
But where do social classes come from?
This had given Juan a face of wondering.
Even a newspaper boy had given him a face of wondering that he bought a
newspaper from them. The face of Juan was painted with wondering, wondering on
what is the reality in our society, on what is happening in our society.
Inside the newspaper pages, he read
something about a woman raped by his master abroad. There were also some words
scattered that she was forced to sell drugs. And at one corner of the page, it
was stated that the woman died from his master’s abuse. The letters of the
woman for his family never reached the mailbox. The wage was nothing but a drop
of water. The family of the woman was still a question mark.
In just a second, Juan bumped into a
young man running at the speed of light. It simply gave him five words: “get
out of my way!” The young man was being chased by a police officer and an old
lady. The young man took something from the old lady. Juan assumed this.
On his way, he found homes built on
mountains of garbage and rivers of black water. An old lady dumped his garbage
in the rivers of black water as a little girl disposed her excretion along the
mountains of garbage. The children at this area were merchants… of bottles,
plastics, cans, and any other thing that can be sold into the junk shop. Some
of these children were playing games, with most of them are engaged in tumbang-preso.
All in a sudden, the ground was shaking.
A mighty siren was heard. It was the train! Everyone was out of its way. They
were afraid. But it seemed that Juan could not hear anything. He was on the
railway! He was on the verge of danger! But a hero flashed through the scene
and pulled Juan from the road of death.
“Do you want to die?” the hero yelled at
him. But Juan was out of his mind.
“I don’t want someone to die… anymore,”
the hero whispered his last word.
Upon hearing those words, Juan recovered
himself. The hero then pulled Juan into a house painted with a haunted dirty
white. No TV, no radio, a dilapidated electric fan, a candle for light, a water
supply from the poso, this is the reality of life.
“This is our house,” the hero welcomed
Juan.
Inside, the smell of decaying garbage
perfumed the entire house as there were stains on the walls, most are drawings
of a child- “bad” words and a drawing of a little “devil” between a man’s legs.
One could easily assume that there can only be three people living. But then,
another drawing stamped on the door could prove us wrong. It was a child’s
drawing of stick figures with seven people holding hands, a dog, and a house.
They were all smiling, the drawing said.
“The six of us used to live here. But
now, there were only four, my…”
The words of the hero were cut as Juan
exclaimed:
“Hey I know you. You are that young man who
is being chased by the police!”
“Please be quiet!” the hero, now revealed
as the young man, or young thief, hushed.
“Sorry for bumping you. I was on a hurry
in those times,” the young man apologized.
“Then can you tell me the truth about
your escape?” Juan asked.
“I took the old lady’s bag and that’s
it,” the young man simply told.
“That’s it? But why?” Juan asked… again.
He can’t let something be not understood.
“Can’t you see? We are poor, poor as
mice, poor as those little flies,” the young man pointed out to those flies
flying around their table. We can now assume that they also keep rats as pests,
not pets.
Juan was satisfied. And this time, the
young man narrated his life knowing Juan should know.
“There were once seven people living
here. Now there were only four. I live here along with my father and my two
sisters,” the young man exposed.
“But where is your mother?” Juan opened
another chapter of conversation.
“A long story to tell you,” the young man
yawned.
“Then make it short,” Juan suggested.
“She used to be a vendor here, a vendor
of veggies, fruits, and even pirated CDs. But then, the police made their way
here to catch those vendors. We were being forced to move out here but this
area had become the residence of these people for years. We were fighting for
our rights. But going back about Mama, many people says she used to be
prostitute here. Some says men made her a sex toy, a sex slave. Some says she
aborted many babies. Some says she sold many children. If it is true or not we
do not care. Mama never did anything wrong to us and that’s something that
people don’t even know. Where is she? She was abroad. There she was a maid, a
caregiver. There she can earn more for us. She promised us to come back soon,”
the young man narrated.
“What’s your mother’s name?” Juan asked.
“Lea Salazar,” the young man replied.
And there, Juan remembered the name of
the woman in that news he read. He can still recall it.
“Why?” the young man asked.
“Oh nothing,” Juan faked a smile to hide
the sad truth. There was no need to ask this: where did the young man’s mother
work abroad? The name was enough.
A mother, since she got married, since
she gave birth to a child, became a slave.
A worker, a slave or a servant- they are
all the same. They all borrow their freedom from their boss, from their master.
And yes, it hurts to know that one’s fate abroad is a question mark. But it
hurts more to know that one’s fate in his own nation is a big question mark!
The mother was a slave, slave of his
master abroad, slave of his family, slave of poverty, slave of the people in
their area, slave of men, slave of the society, slave of poverty for being born
as poor, and slave of her own self for staying poor. She was a slave!
“But then, where is your father?” Juan
asked.
But the young man just shook his head. He
could not answer.
“Oh. I do not know. Maybe in the bar,
looking for ladies, looking for fun. But I think, at this time, he is with his kumpare.
They were gambling again in the neighbourhood. At lunch, they are in
cockfights. At merienda, he is playing cards, bingo or mah-jong with his
friends. But at dinner, he takes his way here, sometimes drunk. We are afraid
he will add another wound on me. I can’t blame him. he sold one of his kidneys
for kuya. I can’t blame him, I love him,” the young man narrated.
“You have a brother?” Juan asked. Juan
never had a brother or a sister.
The young man stood still.
“But where is he?” Juan drew out his
follow-up question.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” the
young man replied.
“Then your sisters?” Juan gave another
question.
“My ate, we once wished she can
marry a rich man to climb into the thread of our society. But she fell in love
with a man, a poor man just like us. But then, at 15, she was pregnant. She
aborted it…” the young man paused for a while.
“But a proverb goes on, like mothers,
like daughters. My ate, she’s a prostitute at a bar,” the young man
proceeded.
"A slave of her own self, a slave of
her feelings, a slave of poverty and necessity," Juan whispered into
himself.
“Then the other sis?” Juan shot him
another question.
But before the young man could open his
lips, there came from his back a little girl, a naïve one.
“Her name is Grace,” the young man told.
“Then who is the other person in this
drawing?” Juan pointed out the drawing on the door.
“Oh, that is Lolo Tadeo. He was a
farmer before. But the rich took our land in promise of a good “return.”
However, we, the owner of our own land, were forced to work on our own land.
But our lolo fought against this slavery, fought for our freedom, but
money makes the world go around. One night, we found lolo dead in front
of our house. We believed the rich put him into this death,” the young man
wiped off his tears as he lighted a candle.
"A slave of the family, a slave of
the rich, poor man," Juan whispered into himself.
“Then what are you doing to live?” Juan
asked.
“I tried my best to be a good student but
every time I try, I have this thought of giving up, of cutting the class and
stop schooling. I live not to study but to work for my family. I once became a
call boy. I once engaged myself into the business of drugs. Now, here I am, I
have no choice but to be a thief, a good-for-nothing thief,” the young man
confided.
“But then, if you just study then you
will…” Juan opened an argument.
“Then what are you doing here? Today is
not a holiday, today is school day, but why are you here? You speak with those
words to me but look at yourself! How stupid!” the young man laughed then
lighted a cigarette.
Juan could not utter a word anymore. He
felt something cold deep inside. It was not guilt. It was his conscience. It
was not regret. It was realization.
But all of a sudden, the older sister
came and seemed to be in panic.
“Ramon, hurry! Father… Father was shot by
someone in the cockfight! They were fighting about their gambles!” the older
sister exclaimed and left at a rush hour.
“Let me tell you this. I was once a top
student in our class. But with mama and papa giving my kuya more
freedom, I was feeling small… I gave up. Now, it’s too late to say it…” the
young man silenced the atmosphere as he recalled his days of childhood dreams.
But breaking the wall of silence, the
siren of the train echoed through the area. Again, everyone was afraid.
“The train was once our hope. It was
where kuya used to be a passenger upon going to his campus. But this
hope killed him. He was still a passenger of this train… He was a ghost these
days. Now, he was more free than ever,” the young man revealed.
And before going out, the young man said,
“It’s too late for me, but not for you.”
The young man was not just a slave of
poverty and necessity but a slave of his own self.
In just a jiffy, the drops of rain fell
through the ground, drops that became shower. The wind was blowing hard that it
soaked the door. And to believe it or not, the smiling faces of those stick
figures were now crying!
But Grace was not crying. She was looking
at the sky. It was dark yet she could still find the light of hope and freedom
for the family. Yes, anyway the wind blows…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
JUSTICE AND LIBERTY
One of the greatest vistas of the city
was a tall hall where a sign was posted: “JUSTICE DELAYED IS JUSTICE DENIED.”
Standing beyond a corner of the hall was
a statue of woman, eyes covered with blindfold, a hand with a Libran scale, and
another hand with a sword held high. She is blind, they say. She is fair, they
say.
But where is Juan?
Of course, he was in the scene again. He
was in this scene where people are everywhere watching a capture of what they
knew as a “criminal.” He was wearing chains and manacles which may indicate
that he was a fearsome prisoner. Some are looking with anger. Some are looking
with disgust. Some are looking with pity. But most are looking with a smile, a
smile of what they call justice and fair judgment.
“I am fighting for our rights! They are
making us fools! Do not be blind by what you see! I may be a prisoner but the
real prisoners here are you who are blind in truth!” the prisoner exploded his
words.
But no one was willing to listen as they
believe he should be in prison, he should be punished, he should be dead, he
should be nailed upon a wooden cross, he should be hanged, he should be shot
dead for sake of silence, or he should be put into the electrical chair! He was
going crazy. That was everyone’s opinion.
But different among others, Juan’s face was
a blank. He was interested in knowing this person, not in initially judging
him. So Juan took his risk and chance in meeting this person. It was a secret
meeting.
“Hello,” Juan opened his greeting.
“What are you doing here? Do you have any
idea in where you are? Go and leave at once before they find you here! Get
lost!” the prisoner warned him.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a short
conversation,” Juan assured him.
“Well then, hurry and tell your words to
me. Ask it now for I will not be here tomorrow,” the prisoner answered.
“Where are you going?” Juan asked.
“To a place where freedom waits for me.
To a place which no one ever reached,” the prisoner gave his answer in such a
silent manner.
“Then why are you here?” Juan now
asked something good.
“It’s because I searched for freedom,”
the prisoner asked.
“You searched for freedom but then you
are in a prison?” Juan laughed but not in a high volume of sound.
“I searched for our freedom. The leaders
of this nation are making us fools! I am a leader of rallies against them. I am
a leader of rebellions and revolts against them. Everyone believes I am crazy!
They can’t see the truth in what is happening right now. The leaders,
themselves, are not lawmakers but lawbreakers. I am here for the leaders thought
that I am a threat in exposing the truth. So one night, they sent a person to
kill me. But I have the freedom of self-defense. I just used it and there, I
became a wanted criminal in the eyes of everyone. I am Jonathan Livingston
Seagull who is making a difference yet became different among them” the
prisoner narrated.
“But then, the point here is why did they
deprive you of freedom if you are searching for freedom, if you are fighting
for freedom?” Juan asked.
“It is because they believe that one who
used freedom in a wrong way will appreciate freedom if he loses freedom. In
this way, he will learn to use his freedom in a right way when he gets free
from the prison,” the prisoner explained.
“But then, I used my freedom in just a
right way. I just lose my liberty, not my freedom. Liberty is just a physical
context. But still, I have the freedom within myself, the ability to be free,
the freedom to talk, the freedom to sleep, the freedom to tell the truth, the freedom
to deny and to lie, the freedom to protest, the freedom to protect my fellow
accomplices, the freedom to escape!” the prisoner enumerated.
“Then do you have a plan to escape and
prove your innocence?” Juan asked.
“No, I do not have a plan. I fight for MY
freedom, I search for MY freedom. I will stay here in prison. They can do what
they want to do, they can kill me but I will still be this man,” the prisoner
defended. He laughed. It was an evil laugh that it seemed that he was ready for
something. It was an evil laugh that echoed through the prison cells, awakened
those who are in deep sleep.
And here they came. The guards were on
the way.
“Get out of here! They are coming!” the
prisoner pointed the way out.
“No, I can’t. I will not leave here,”
Juan stood still.
“Idiot!” the prisoner shook his head.
So the officers came and cut the
conversation.
“You should be in the asylum now! You are
crazy! The both of you!” the officers shouted.
So the officers caught the prisoner in
their hands! But alas, the prisoner took a pistol from one of the
officers!
“Go and escape! Go and escape!” the
prisoner gave Juan a warning.
But one of the officers shot the prisoner
in his leg. The prisoner could not walk. Juan was running but then, something
inside him said that he should come back and help the prisoner. Juan was a
slave of his own self!
“Idiot! Sleeping is the best freedom. I
am just dreaming of this idiot,” the prisoner smiled.
“Your family needs you. The people need
you. The world needs you,” Juan said.
“Sorry but no one will believe me,” the
prisoner looked above.
The story was now reaching its climax
and…
1… 2… 3… The prisoner shot himself dead!
The poor cold body of the prisoner was kicked back and forth by the officers!
It was a headline for sure!
So the statue of justice remained
standing on the hall. She’s blind. She can’t even see those who deny justice
and freedom from others. She can’t even see those who never hold justice and
freedom. But the prisoner, he was not looking for the statue of justice. He was
looking for the statue of liberty. But it was far… so far away.
And who might even know that the prisoner
finally found the greatest place of freedom!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
THE SPEECH
And so Juan was brought to the office of
the president.
“Take a seat. Have a drink,” the
president lighted his cigarette as the maid put a cup of coffee on the table.
But who is on the hot seat? Is it Juan or
the president? Just read this speech delivered by Juan.
Social class makes difference between the
people. The same goes with names and genes. The president belongs to a name and
to the genetics of a rich and famous family of politicians. They have the
influence.
The president, along with his “good”
government, says they make us free but then we are born to be free. Sometimes I
thought of why farmers can’t be the president or why the president can’t be the
farmer. They can switch positions.
And they say that the greatest freedom
they bestowed to the people is to vote, to participate in an election, a
process in which they say we can choose the right leader for our nation, a
process that can be compared into cheating in exam. You choose the right letter
but as you see, the one who check your paper says you chose the wrong letter.
They make us idiots.
This reminds me of a story. Once, there
exists a nation in which there are two social classes- masters and slaves.
There is just one rule here. The slaves will just do what the master said. They
can’t do something that the master did not say. In fact, they are followers.
So one day, a master was going to a
public meeting of masters. So he brought with him three slaves. The master told
the slaves, “Now I order you to drive my chariot.”
Along the way, the slaves were also given
an order to bring pieces of bread with them. But the slaves went hungry. The
master was sleeping. They can’t eat without the words of the master. To have
the words of the master, he should be awake. But the master was sleeping. They
can’t wake him up for they do not have the order to wake him up.
But going along the rocky road, the
pieces of bread fell on the ground. They can’t pick them up for they
don’t have the order from their master. But the master will be so angry
losing the pieces of bread so they picked them up. But the master was awakened.
He was angry so he told his slaves, “Now I order you this. You can’t pick
things from the ground.”
So the master went sleeping again. But
this time, the royal hat of the master fell on the ground. The slaves did not
bother to pick it up. But then, the master was awakened. He was angry so he
told his slaves, “Now I order you this. Pick everything that falls from the
ground.”
Now, the horses paused for a while to
excrete. The slaves witnessed this. So the slaves picked the excretions of the
horses. The master was awakened. He was so angry that he told his slaves, “Now
I order you this. Do not pick anything that falls on the ground.”
But this time, the master, himself, fell
on the ground. The slaves did not even bother to pick him up. The master was so
angry but he was even confused.
And who might even know that all masters
who are supposed to attend the public meeting had the same experiences! So the
slaves became free to do what they think is right, to have the chance of
climbing the thread of the social class.
But looking in these times, freedom,
along with justice, is denied. A saying goes like this. When the people fear
the government, then there is tyranny. But when the government fears the
people, then there is liberty. Those who deny justice and freedom to others do
not even deserve them. But looking in these times, those people who created
these laws and rules to maintain order and peace in the nation are now the one
who break them. Lawmakers are now the lawbreakers. We are not aware that our
freedom, that our justice is controlled and manipulated.
They teach us to how to cross the street
in a right time and in a right place. But even those who enforce this rule
break it. They teach us to pay taxes in a right amount and in a right time. But
even those who enforce this rule break it. And only a few of us know how the
government budget is distributed. The accounts of these leaders are in the
shadows!
They say we are a free nation but as we
view our nation in our mirror, we can’t see it anymore. Our nation wears the
face of other nations. Our nation patronizes more products from other nations.
Our nation embraces the culture of other nations more than our own. Our nation
depends on other nations. Our nation has tons of debt from other nations. Our
nation was liberated four times. First came the Spaniards who “liberated” us
from the “enslavement of the devil.” Then the Americans came to “liberate” us
from oppression. Then the Japanese “liberated” us from imperialism. And at
last, the Americans “liberated” us from Japan. No, they did not liberate us.
They invaded us. Our “new heroes” are not in our nation, they are abroad!
These leaders say that our one vote makes
a difference. But those leaders who purchase the vote of people make more
difference! During the election, during the campaign period, the faces of every
aspiring leader are on the walls, on the trees, although some of them are
aspiring ecologists. They are active during elections and campaigns. They are
active during times of need, during disasters. They are active during holidays.
But where are these leaders in the everyday race of life, in the normal day of
a citizen.
The media will then tell us that our vote
just made a difference. They are good from the start, during campaigns, but bad
during the middle of their term. Then if they become bad officials, these
officials will blame us on why we vote him. The blame is on the citizens. But
have he thought of this? The citizens believe him but he changed a lot. And
excuse me, I did not vote for you. And excuse me, I never heard of an election
in which a one loses from another in just one vote. In fact, they give us
collective freedom, not individual freedom. And once people say they have the
freedom to blame the government, to complain, the government denies this
freedom.
Yes, they teach us the do’s and don’ts.
They teach us what is should and what is must. They teach us right from wrong.
Yet, they do forget it. They do not apply it. The motto is, “When I am wrong, I
am still right.” They can make everything seem right.
Our nation is blind. Our nation is deaf.
Our nation is mute. Our nation is crippled. Our nation is dying of cancer. Our
nation is a slave of corruption. Our nation is a slave of poverty. Our nation
is a slave among nations. Our nation is a slave of false hope. Our nation is a
slave of promises. Our nation is a slave of its people who pull each other
down, who deny their rights and responsibilities. The people, of course are
slaves. So Mr. President, I challenge you. Now I remind you. Reflect your
words. Where is freedom?
Mr. President, before I forget, I
apologize. Sorry I forgot something. You are a slave of the people!
The president was speechless. He never
met such young man. Juan was about to leave when the president asked.
“What’s your name, boy?”
Juan answered, “I am Juan, a name in
which all of us are born.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS
“There is no such thing as free lunch,”
an expression says.
No one knew the face of the brave young
man who faced the president. No one even knew his name. Where is he? No one
knew.
Juan was hungry so he desperately took a
piece of bread from a nearby store. Without any doubt, he was caught and was
brought to the office of the boss.
“You have to pay for that, boy!” the boss
said.
“But why?” Juan asked.
“Because there is no such thing as free
lunch,” the boss stated.
“I can’t understand you,” Juan scratched
his head.
“It is simple. Everything here comes with
a price tag. Everything counts. Nothing in life is free, there is always a
price to be paid. You can’t take everything you want,” the boss explained.
“But why?” Juan asked.
“Another why!? It is because everything
is limited. You have to pay for it to replace it. You have to pay for it to
reward the seller and the maker of everything that can be bought,” the boss
explained.
“But then why are some people still
poor?” Juan’s endless why started.
“I do not know. They are born poor. They
are lazy. They do not have the capital to begin a business. I do not care about
them,” the boss seemed to be in a rush hour.
“Now, get out of this. I still need to
count what I have earned today,” the boss pushed Juan outside his office.
Juan still have so many questions to ask
such as why do we patronize other nation’s product if we can have our own
product, why do we become slaves of other nation in economy, why we have debt,
why we copy the foreign culture, why we welcome our own foreign invaders, why
others go abroad.
But one thing is answered and assured.
The boss is a slave of money. And for sure, the daughter or the son will be the
slave of this bond in which he or she should marry another rich person even
though he or she do not love a rich person. The rich will remain rich and the
poor will remain poor. Or put it this way. The rich will be richer and poor
will be poorer than ever… forever!?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
THE RIGHTS OF A WRITER
Writers are the wisest man on Earth. They
hold facts and opinions. They hold truth and lies. A genius indeed!
Juan just found one genius in his way. He
was sitting on the bench looking at the red carpet of a famous actor surrounded
by the media, by the cameras, by the lights.
“What’s your problem Sir?”Juan
disturbed.
“It’s nothing,” the writer said.
“No Sir, I can see there is a problem, a
big problem that bothers you. Come and tell it to me,” Juan smiled.
“Then promise me to keep it a secret,”
the writer pleaded.
“I swear,” Juan promised.
“See that actor there? I know something
bad about him. He was having an affair. I knew for I followed him,” the writer
confided.
“But that is bad! You are crossing a
person’s freedom of privacy,” Juan said.
“But he is doing something bad too,” the
writer defended.
“And to say it, the freedom of the press,
the freedom of opinion, the freedom of expression, the freedom of speech, is a
freedom that can cross the freedom of others in a right way,” the writer
elaborated.
“But what if someone gets angry? What if
he disagrees and disapproves?” Juan challenged the writer’s side.
“Then I do not care about the opinion of
others. It is not about them, it is about me, doing my job of exposing the
truth. The freedom given to us just becomes bad when we tell lies,” the writer
assured his victory in the argument.
“If it the truth, then tell the actor.
Tell it to him in a secret way so he can change himself. Do not expose it in
public. Freedom of expression is not always public. It can be private,” Juan
suggested.
“That is a good idea,” the writer smiled.
The writer, now brave enough, approached
the actor and tell him what he knew. Everyone may think that is a blackmail but
no, it was settled. The actor changed himself. The writer told the public that
the actor had an affair yet changed himself through his moral support. They are
good friends, thanks to Juan. Thanks to Juan, two slaves became close friends.
One is a slave of the fans and the media who may keep him on the top or push
him down. The other is a slave of the truth, the conscience, the time in which
he should be updated about the life of others.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
THE WAR OF FREEDOM
Juan settled his feet on a ground he
never explored before. It was a field of fire and blood. The cold bodies were
everywhere. Some were decaying. No one could recognize them. It was a
battlefield.
There was one person here- a soldier. He
saluted the flag still waving with pride and honor. He was reading a
letter…
Juan could hear the words flowing. It was
a letter from the soldier’s beloved lady who have found another man during the
times the soldier was away for serving the nation.
“I am strong to set you free but I became stronger when I let you go.”
These are the last words of the beloved lady. But the soldier does not
even know where she is. He wants to tell her how much he loves her. It is
enough. But did the lady survive the war?
The war did not even leave any grass
standing alive. Even his family was washed away. The only thing left is the
last letter that failed to reach his hand, a letter looking for him, a letter
of concern, a letter searching for help, a letter narrating the difficulties of
life during those times. The war was over and so with the lives of its poor
innocent victims. He was still holding the letter he wrote for his family a
letter, a letter of promise, a letter of return, a letter of hope.
Deep inside him, he never dreamed to be a
soldier. He became a soldier for his nation, for the freedom of his nation, for
the sake of his family.
The soldier was standing on the grave of
his friend, a pilot. Something was imprinted on the grave. It reads, “I’M
FLYING SOLO YET I’M FLYING FREE.”
“So this is freedom?” Juan was sad as he came into the scene.
“Yes, it is,” the soldier answered as he tapped Juan’s shoulder.
“But why turn out like this?” Juan could not believe so he asked.
“It’s because we are fighting for our freedom,” the soldier answered
him.
“That is the point. Two nations are
fighting for their freedom. The freedom of each nation crosses each other.
Freedom makes us think we are always right,” Juan exclaimed.
“It is because freedom is not given or
bestowed, it is taken, it is achieved, it is demanded. Once someone give his
freedom to others, he become a loser, a slave and no one wants it. If you are
not ready to die, put out the word freedom in your head. It’s better to
die fighting for freedom than to live as a prisoner, as a slave,” the soldier
explained.
“But why kill each other if we can make peace?” Juan wondered.
“It is because laws are silent in times
of war. All is fair. Nothing in life is free. Everything should be paid with a
price, money or life. We can’t have both freedom and peace at the same time,”
the soldier sat on the rocks.
“But tell me. How many pilots has died
flying in the air? How many homes were destroyed by tanks, by mines, by bombs?
How many died in the jungle? How many died in the foreign land? How many died
in the seas? How many women became nurses? How many wives, mothers, fathers,
brothers, sisters, grandmas, grandpas, and children cried?” Juan asked.
The soldier could not utter any word.
“Yes, you fight with honor and dignity.
You die with honor and dignity. You fight for freedom. You die for freedom. You
serve your nation for freedom. But have you asked yourself? Have you serve
yourself with freedom? It is sad how soldiers think they are heroes. Yes, they
are heroes but they are also slaves,” Juan ended.
“Come with me,” the soldier smiled and stood up.
“Where are we going?” Juan asked.
“We are going to search for survivors,” the soldier buried the letters
he had in his hand.
Later, he burned the flag of the nation, the flag of his master.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
THE COMING DAY
Juan and the soldier came through a
church and there they found three people- a priest, a doctor and a lawyer.
The doctor and the lawyer were confessing their sins to the priest.
The doctor was guilty about his patient’s
death. The lawyer was guilty about a person’s imprisonment. Both were paid.
Both were slaves of conscience.
Juan and the soldier prayed. They thanked the Lord for the life they
still have. The priest smiled and said, “God is great.”
“No, I am not his slave. I am his
servant. It is my will to serve him. He did not force me,” the priest said.
But something is still on the gray cells of Juan.
“What is freedom?” he repeated these words to himself.
He was thinking of the lessons of freedom he received from the people he
met.
He learned the limits of freedom.
Freedom limits freedom. Laws limit
freedom. Rules limit freedom. Human nature limits freedom. Conscience limits
freedom. Time limits freedom. Personality limits freedom. Necessity limits
freedom. Security and dependence limits freedom. Social class makes difference.
Genetics makes difference. Race makes difference. Culture makes difference.
Name makes difference. Gender makes difference. Disabilities make difference.
Majority and minority make difference. Age makes difference. Being different
makes difference.
“But what is freedom?” Juan was thinking deeply about this.
Juan was thinking about this more than his coming day, the celebration
of the day he was born…
The next day came and everyone does not know what happened. Juan was
dead.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .
BACK TO ZERO
Juan finally met God, the Creator, the Lord of everything. The lights
were so bright to see Him.
This time, Juan hoped for the best answers.
What is freedom?
“From the start, I have given you
freedom. You are all born free but freedom is limited. What you need to do is
limited. What you can do is limited. No one is perfect. Nothing is perfect so
freedom is not perfect. It is the truth. I keep everything in balance. You have
rights, you have responsibilities. You have the freedom to be right, you have
to freedom to be wrong. You have freedom to be happy, you have the freedom to
be sad. You have the freedom to have success, you have the freedom to fail.
This is to make your life complete and meaningful. Life is a journey. You are
the one responsible to your life because I made you free since the first day.
You can choose your actions but not the results of your actions.
And because I love you, I have given you
the most freedom among my creations. It is more than enough. It is enough. Use
it in a right way. Use it in a wise way. I have made you slave of your own
nature for you need it. At the same time, you are the master of your own
nature. All is fair but most of you think it is not. It is how you look into
life that you become master or slave. I am not even free. I keep my entire day
watching you. I have made not just “cameras” in this world but I have made
people to watch other people. No one can be slave or master in everyone,
everywhere or every time.
I have given life a limit for you to
appreciate and understand everything you can have, everything you should have.
Time reminds you of this. I have given you the freedom of will, the greatest
freedom of all. I have made your destiny as you make your destiny. Freedom is
not my greatest gift to you. Life is my greatest gift. Freedom is just life’s
greatest gift. The meaning of freedom is vast. It is wider than the universe I
have created. I have designed life as a mystery. It is not about freedom but it
is about giving your life a meaning and a difference before you come back here
so please free yourself in thinking about freedom. Take a rest.”
After this, a man came from the lights. It was a man holding a balloon.
He was smiling.
“Welcome here,” the man said.
But Juan shook his head and said.
“Please restart everything. Give me
another life. Give me another chance,” Juan bowed his head and wished.
"I am not your master. I am your teacher," the man smiled.
This is the last hope. This is the best hope.
Juan looked at the people he met. Their
lives were nothing but a drop of water. It’s a small, after all.
And so, the wish of Juan came into reality. The truth made him free. His
life is back to zero. He came to Earth again. He was saying the words:
“I will get out of this cage. I will
break these chains. I will tear down these walls. I will cross these
barriers. I will follow my heart. I will get out of my shell. I will try
defying gravity. I will fly. I will soar high. I will soar higher. I will free them.
We will live life to the fullest. We will be free at last… and I hope
so.”
And here, every day we are free. Let us just appreciate it. Let us just
celebrate it. This is where Juan and his freedom begin.
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