Sunday, March 18, 2007

Freedom Run.

The concept of freedom is a complex, elusive, and beautiful thing. I never thought to discover its meaning walking through the streets of West Brunswick. I never thought a lithe, moustached Rock God would be the key to unlocking its secret. Yet when I watched a man, smiling the cheekiest smile I had ever seen, and combing his greasy hair before destroying a crowd of hundreds with the power of his Rock, freedom came and stood beside me, put her arms around me and lifted me above the masses.

White light, heat and sweat, the mind numbing beauty of the NOW. That's how freedom feels.

Freedom is nirvana, freedom is the moment, freedom is no thought, the Void. Miyamoto Musashi wrote of that, 400 years ago in a cave in Japan. He discovered it after slaying scores of opponents, a hermit, an armed to the teeth transient, discovering the meaning of freedom by testing his will against any who would dare to challenge him. Until finally, undefeated, he retired to a cave to attempt what many had attempted before him, to capture the concept of freedom in the written word, and eventually finding himself unable to hold prisoner the essence of nothing.

My cave was The Palace, my mentor in a sleeveless denim jacket, tattoos showing, and smiling such warmth and humour that the notoriously fickle Melbourne Music Crowd could not help but love, and dance, and raise their hands in salute to the simple free idea of letting loose and having the time of their lives.

Like many men, the real dilemma I faced was what to do with the freedom I had attained. Like many men, perhaps initially the intoxicating headiness of it steered me wrong and the next night behind the decks I let it explode, an ecstatic symphony of wild rapture, out of the cage, into the fire, pacing and prowling and animalistic.

Sunday taught me, that freedom can also be enjoyed in moments of quiet repose. Sunday taught me, perhaps freedom should be enjoyed thus more often, because a paralysed man can not always enjoy all the rewards a free mind and heart can offer.

Embryonic on a couch, is a prison too.



  1. do men have to attain freedom? aren't they handed it? don't they just fucking take it without thinking about it?

  2. I'm not sure about that MG, and I'm really not ever one to differentiate between what men do and what women do. I've seen them both act appalingly, and both give wholeheartedly. I prefer to think of individuals than generalisations.

    That said, who knows what you or I mean by freedom. My post was talking about freedom from things in my soul, in which case I can honestly say, fuck YES I have to attain it. Fuck NO I've never been handed it.

    AS for taking without thinking, yeah I've probably been guilty of that. HEY, LOOK OVER THERE!

    *steals ice cream*