Freedom looms large in my life. Let’s get into it.

When I was a child, we sang songs about freedom. I grew up in the land of the free and the home of the brave! Let freedom ring, baby! When I was growing up in church, we sang songs about the things we were free from, and freed into. We talked about ourselves in terms like “freedom from bondage.” We looked to Jesus to “Set the captives free.”

When I was a child, the 4th of July was a major holiday in our house. We hosted a party each year, and for a while, it was a pretty happening joint. We made literal red, white, and blue foods. We ate barbecue. We had various lemonades and beverages. We invited everyone, and a lot of them came. In the evening, we’d pile into cars and head for the local fireworks display. We’d “ooh and aah” with a thousand other people on the banks of the mighty Willamette and listen to the Knox Brothers sing old gospel tunes.

That evening was always magical because, from a pretty young age, we experienced a sort of freedom we weren’t really used to. Harrisburg, Oregon is a small town with a bank and a Dari Mart. We were allowed to basically walk up and down the streets and get into various mischief that generally consisted of nothing more than choosing our own candy purchases. We decided to walk over two streets and look at the tee-shirt stall or the wind-chime guy. We decided to go check in with our folks when we needed money or a can of soda. We decided to walk around in circles until we found someone we knew. And we always found someone we knew. Freedom was quiet and gentle. I was young and it was for the enjoying.

Later, our freedom rang closer to home. My brother and I discovered that with some slight—umm—modifications, simple, legal, safe fireworks (purchasable at any marginally reputable church with a plywood stand out front) could be crafted into a much more powerful expression of patriotism and American ingenuity. And that’s when the explosions began.

We blew everything up. We blew up a dead chicken. We blew up countless bean cans, shredding their ends open. We made cannons and we blew garbage cans 40 feet off the ground.

Once, I even blew my thumb into my hand. I’ll spare you most of the details, but we essentially, (accidentally), built a pipe bomb and I essentially decided to hold onto it, and it essentially turned my thumb and hand into meat putty. I am lucky to have kept them at all.

Was that freedom? Am I free yet?

Today I think of freedom in very different terms. Today I think of freedom in terms of all that I have. All that I enjoy. All that I contain and express. I think of freedom in terms of the places I can go and the things I can think.

And I think of my freedom contrasted with others’ lack. I think of freedom in terms of all we have and how we got it. Freedom is under attack in ways that are clear and obvious for anyone looking. Who’s allowed where and who’s allowed to do what, and who’s allowed to be.

And while some of those threats seem fresh and new, we could, (we should), ask marginalized communities about this. They have a voice and a perspective worth noting. Worth considering. Worth remembering. Worth hearing over and over, and as loudly as necessary. We would be wise to listen to voices who know our collective future based on their collective past.

Today I think of the types of freedom I enjoy and I wonder, genuinely, if my children and grandchildren will know freedom of thought, freedom of action. Freedom of opinion and freedom of idea.

I think of my religious upbringing, and I reflect on a song from my childhood that still means a great deal to me. I promise not to get too preachy, but stay with me here.

I’ve got a river of life flowing out of me, it makes the lame to walk and the blind to see, it opens prison doors, it sets the captives free, I’ve got a river of life flowing out of me.

Spring up, o well! Within my soul! Spring up o well! And make me whole! Spring up o well! And give to me, that life, abundantly.

I love every line. I believe every line. I believe we have a river of life that can flow, uniquely, out of each of us. I believe that we can have real impacts—real, tangible, positive effects on the people around us. Positive effects that can only come fro the river of life flowing from each of us, uniquely.

The lame walking and the blind seeing are references to specific miracles Jesus is believed to have performed. But we can do great things with our actions and our words, our money, our votes, our ideas, our labor. Moreover, I don’t know that we can even be whole without that well springing up within us.

What does it mean to advocate for the freedom of others? I suppose I’m not arguing for the broad opening of prison doors and the freeing of all captives. But what if we looked for ways to set people free from the bondages and captivities in which they find themselves ensnared? How can we be a part of freeing people from addictions? Or from debilitating beliefs that hold them still and stationary? That rob them of pleasure or creativity or curiosity?

A favored tune that comes to mind is Bob Marley’s Redemption song. Marley paraphrased Marcus Garvey;

emancipate yourself from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds.

And so I say, here, now, in this essay: Spring up, o well, within my soul. Make me whole. Give to me the fullness of life that comes from fighting for the freedom of others.

A few thoughts I’ll pepper in here at the end. Freedom is not, can not be a personal possession, held Gollum-like in secret, underground perpetuity. For our very own.

Instead, it’s important to remember that most of what we enjoy as freedoms—safety, mobility, speech, work, dignity, et cetera—these are all things that depend on shared systems and mutual restraint.

“My freedoms don’t end where your feelings begin,” the somewhat aggressive and unkind bumper sticker slogan goes. But I suppose it is so.

However, this is important, if others are silenced, if others are marginalized or excluded, the very systems that supply your freedoms become brittle and unreliable. If freedom is robbed from them today, it will be robbed from you tomorrow.

Freedom is not the same as power over others. Freedom is freedom only if all are free.

Freedom don’t come free. What is the cost? The cost can be death, it’s true. Many men and women have fought and lost their lives on the altar of freedom. Their sacrifices should be honored. They should be remembered. Some have died for freedom.

Can we also live for freedom? Can we work toward systems of justice and kindness that protect the freedoms we enjoy for all to experience?

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” —Nelson Mandela

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nickfromoregon.substack.com