5. Inclusive Opinions
What if freedom was just freedom?
I’d just watched L’Avenir. The Things to Come. It’s a delicious 2016 french movie. And I thought it had nothing to do with The Things to Come.
A Philosophy teacher gracefully juggles her divorce, her mother’s death, being let go from a side job, and her two children having moved to challenge life themselves.
I loved the lack of attachment there. Every inch of its almost 2 hours. Totally refreshing.
And you know what she says?!
French women… The ones in the movies and the ones I read about were this perfect simultaneities of delicate and strong, of distinction and regularity. They didn’t wear clothes, they wore themselves. I loved that.
On a Woody Goothrie song, in a car, Natalie — the main character — sais…
Quoi je pense? Mes enfants sont partis, mon mari m’a quitté, ma mère est morte. J’ai trouvé ma liberté. Une liberté totale. Jamais l’ai connu ça. C’est extraordinaire.
It sounds better in French. It zooms in on the delicate heaviness of self-made life instead of the English indulgence of snobbish serenity. Yes, I think French is a bit more authentic than English. But that’s just because I originally speak a latin language. Isn’t it?
And the translation.
To think — my kids are gone, my husband left me, my mom died. I found my freedom. A total freedom. I’ve never experienced it. It’s extraordinary.
Natalie — I love her name — was on to something.
When was the last time you felt free?
I remember the first time I figured freedom has levels.
I was still in high school. 11th grade. We were taking the equivalent of a Physics mid-term. I was furious and resentful towards absolutely everything.The smallest things, you name them. I didn’t study at all for that test. I think I never really studied again after my mom passed. I learned things, my way, indeed. But I didn’t study.
Anyway, I was terribly mad. In fact, that time of my life, I was soaked soo deep in this anger thing, you couldn’t tell us apart. So, during the 3 hour mid-term, I wrote rap lyrics. Which for me back then was a euphemism for rhyming curse words. I was under protest. I would protest against anything.
Scored a 3 out of 10. Yes, that’s an F. My first and only 3 ever in my entire academic history. After the test, for a second there, I felt proud. “Ha, I did it my way! And Failed! And no one has the authority to do anything, anymore! No need to study physics ever again.” Until the next semester, that was, of course.
But boy-oh-boy, did the bitterness of freedom strike right there and then. It had been a false win. One of the first I’d come to taste in a long string of pretendings. I never shared this side of the story before. But, I went back in my room, slammed the door so hard the wallpaper fell off and cried the entire night.
I cried because she’d never gotten to witness The Rebellion of I.
Are there two sides to every story?
So, my perspective on the freedom I was forced into was darker than usual.
Nonetheless, each coin has two sides, doesn’t it?
We tend to look at things and argue if they’re good or bad, if they’re beautiful or ugly, if they’re too much or too little, if we like them or not, if we’re to share them or not, etc.
#1: We form exclusive opinions. And most of the times, they’re just that — biased ideas.
#2: This paradox of choice stands in the fact that we choose a judgment instead of creating utility for it.
Well, what if we tried having Inclusive Opinions?
Such as: Freedom is freedom. And that’s all there is to it! It doesn’t have to be good kind of freedom or the bitter kind or even limited freedom. It is Just Freedom.
Or Love is love. It’s not conditional, nor is it unconditional. It’s not tainted or untainted. Nor is it steadfast.
Or Truth is truth. It’s not yours, nor is it mine.
And so on.
Oh, but can you imagine what that would mean? A definition of the concept— generally accepted — and a common understanding of that definition’s meaning.
Yeah… No.
But, again, Natalie says it best — that’s extraordinaire. And then she explains this means not having experienced it before. She doesn’t mention whether it’s good or bad freedom. And she doesn’t demand this freedom to make her happy, either. She just admits it’s different than before.
So, what if, once a day, we’d stop for a second on our way to work and acknowledge one of the trees on the sidewalk? Not how tall it is. Not how thick it is. Not if it bears fruit or not. Not even the color of his crown. Just the tree. In itself. Being a tree and just that.
Or say you’re taking the subway — acknowledge the handlers. Not their color or their fabric. Not their resistance. Just the handle being a handle.
And then keep expanding our area of inclusive opinions to say… people. People just being people? Who heard of that before? :)
— — —
Other Naked Words I’ve written lately:
#Prodigality | #LettingGo | #Story | #Voice |
