Barbara H. Peterson
If we lose our freedom by fighting for it, then we never really had it in the first place, just the illusion…
I am one person. One person in a multitude. Insignificant, really, just one tree in a seemingly endless forest. Yet I can still speak. My voice has not been silenced yet. I can choose to call out the tyrants for what they are, or not. I can also choose to cower in fear of losing my freedom for simply speaking against authority. But if I choose to remain silent because of that fear, is that really freedom?
And if we remain silent in fear of losing our perceived “freedom,” isn’t that the same as giving our consent to the ones who would imprison us? So, if we live in fear of losing our freedom, is it really freedom that we lose?
What is freedom but to be unfettered by chains that bind us to false hope and traditions that teach us to bend to the will of those who would enslave and subjugate in the name of power and profit? Who use people as chattel to be tossed on the garbage heap when they no longer serve their purpose?
The illusion of freedom that we are bound with makes us compliant. Makes us complacent and honor-bound to uphold meaningless rules designed to keep us in line and safely within the illusion. And if you think that you will remain safe by following these rules, think again. The rules change. And when they do, they have the ability to make criminals of us all.
That is how the illusion is built. Innocent until the rules change and then ignorance of those rules is no excuse.
A trap. A maze with ever-changing paths with cheese placed in varying positions. No certainty, just chaos for the mice and a source of amusement for the controlling hand guiding the activities. And don’t dare bite the hand or a very, very dead mouse you will be. Labeled a danger to yourself and others. A terrorist, or whatever label necessary to invoke the proper media response, when in reality, you are merely a mouse in an unnatural environment, just trying to cope.
But the hand doesn’t care. The hand feeds and punishes at will. You exist in the maze solely for the amusement of the hand. Until you don’t. Until you displease the hand and you see your supposed freedom for what it is – a carefully constructed maze designed to keep you endlessly running in circles while spectators clap and cheer and toast to your success when you manage to grab a bite of cheese. And your every move is monitored and recorded for future reference. To make sure that you don’t get the urge to bite.
Are we really such slovenly beasts that our actions and thoughts need to be monitored continually to make sure that we are not going off-path and getting ready to conduct a mass slaughter of our fellow human beings as is promoted by the media? Or is that part of the illusion that is being portrayed as “freedom?” Do we really gain freedom by making sure that those around us cannot do us harm by placing a control grid around each person until every breath alerts authorities who determine through an algorithm whether or not we should be allowed to continue or be terminated on the spot?
That isn’t freedom. It’s the illusion.
The relief you feel by knowing that you are a law-abiding citizen of Freedom, Inc., is actually the fleeting feeling of comfort that you get when your imminent demise is put off for the moment. But not forever, because the threat is still there. It has just been deflected onto a strawman. A boogeyman. Whatever you want to call it. That temporary feeling of comfort is not real, it is smoke in the wind. An illusion.
The real threat does not come from the other mice in the maze, the strawmen. This is a false threat designed to keep the mice from realizing where the true danger comes from. The real threat comes from the hand. The hand holds life and death in its palm. And it really doesn’t matter to the hand if you live or die. Become a nuisance and you die.
After all, mice are replaceable and can easily be extinguished. Until they become a horde. An uncontrollable horde of mice thinking for themselves. Mice who have found the weakness and chewed through the trappings, escaping the web of deceit and lies of illusory freedom and the grid holding it in place. A terrifying thought to the hand. Something that must be quelled. But the mice cannot be silenced for long, because once a mouse finds the escape route, another will follow, and another and another. And the lies are simply not big enough nor strong enough to contain the horde any longer.
And the illusion of freedom lies in pieces, shredded by the teeth of those it would contain. And it starts with one mouse with revolution on its mind. With freedom as a driving force in the core of its being.
The hand is not anyone’s friend. It will herd those who live on the land into reservations, then hold the land “for the people” because the people are not capable of taking care of it themselves. Illusion. It happened to the Native Americans, and now it is happening to the ranchers. Anyone who sees the subterfuge and skullduggery is a threat to the hand. Anyone who sees through the illusion.
The most successful tactic the hand has at its disposal is pitting us against each other while we all take it in the shorts. Meanwhile more land is grabbed, more rights eroded, and those fighting amongst themselves never see it coming. But those who see through the hand’s tactics will never stop. They will never stop because it makes them sick to their stomachs to be part and parcel of the biggest con of all. The very, very real illusion of freedom crafted by the hand using deceit and trickery to enslave, wielded by Freedom, Inc. in order to take total control away from the people and place it squarely in the hand of the ones who would be King.
And that my friends, is why one voice matters. It always starts with just one. And the ending has yet to be determined. We are the mice. We must find the weakness holding the control grid of illusory freedom together and chew through to real freedom. Others will follow until we become a horde. Then who will stop us? Any power the hand wields will become an illusion just like the illusion of freedom that it constructed for us. Dust in the wind of change. No longer relevant nor useful for any good thing.
©2016 Barbara H. Peterson
Originally published at Global Independent Analytics