The Illusion of Freedom

One can easily observe those who say, “I am young. I am going to make my own choices and enjoy life.” transform into “That’s life. That’s what life throws at me. This is just the way things are.” They laugh, but it is increasingly the hollow, forced laugh of neurosis. The illusion of liberty, for the libertine, is the lure of a cage which seems, at times, comfortable as the womb, warm as a coffin. Again, St. Kosmas’ words are appropriate:

A passion which we allow to grow active within us through our own choice, afterwards forces itself upon us against our will. – Saint Kosmas Aitolos

Or, as Rilke would write it:

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone. -- Rainer Maria Rilke