Freedom is a tricky word, it is very subjective, its a shape-shifter perpetually changing identity.

Sometimes its just a way of being, so romantic and courageous, sometimes its a revolt, a revolution, a declaration of independence, a country, a job. Sometimes its a house with a view, sometimes a word, sometimes a song. It can be a smile, a kiss, a stroll in the park, a juicy wonderful steak. Its sometimes a book, a movie, a name… But at the end its just a word.

We live in a world with lots of illusions, the biggest illusion is freedom! We have no difference from the world depicted in the Matrix:

Agent Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you’re fighting for something? For more that your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can’t win. It’s pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

I find myself asking the same questions again and again. Different circumstances, same questions, sometimes it makes me want to puke…

There are several wars you can attend to, but not all are clean and you can’t win them all. A saying says:

Never wrestle with a pig-you both get dirty but the pig likes it!

Another says:

Never argue with an idiot. They drag you down to their level and beat you with experience!

Well its sometimes hard to run away from getting dirty and from being beaten down. Its also true though that every war bares a lesson, and every lesson has a price. The price makes you want to shrug and give up on the world you have built on your shoulders, and life seems so pointless and in vain.

So why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

Because I choose to.

Sadok Kohen

for Sam