What would that mean to me–a new freedom?  Where is it that I feel restrained and imprisoned?  Time to get a “get out of jail free” card.  I sing a song on my scooter: “I’m free, I’m free, I’m free to be me!”  I used to hate that phrase in the 60s-70s, “Who am I?”  I would insist that I knew exactly who I was.  But sometimes these days, I find myself held captive by the myths of who I’ve been, and am not sure of what it is like to walk out of those old walls.

New freedom.  Clear, open, wide dervish dancing.  Swinging on swings, walking for hours in speckled shadowed forests, sitting under an umbrella at a grey drizzle beach in all afternoon until I can hear what the rocks and waves are saying to me.

Sit.  Still.  Stay.  Flow–rush–bounce–flail–splatter–laugh–sputter–giggle.  Quiet.  Smooth.  Still.

Temptations to look for lonely hooks in the stories of requisite holiday celebrations, I breathe deep into the centered stillness of a new Divine Freedom.