I don’t seem to choose my thoughts.
They seem to choose me… and take me along for the ride, oftentimes against my will.
And so I wonder…
Is it possible that freedom is the grandest delusion of all time?
… a trickster artifact of an evolving organ capable of self-consciousness and reflexive deliberation?
… an emotional rejection of determinism in a conceited attempt to feel more special than I really am?
… a naïve and foolhardy effort to make too much sense of an absurd existence?
Then again, freedom may be the most infinitely precious thing in the entire cosmos.
And so I commit myself to freedom… not on logical, but on eminently moral grounds.
I commit myself to freedom because I refuse to be a mere effect… a hapless victim condemned to an inevitable, even if unpredictable, trajectory in an indifferent universe.
I commit myself to freedom because rejecting it relinquishes my power… ALL of it… by virtue of the absolute law of self-fulfilling prophecy.
I commit myself to freedom because, without it, all talk of character, virtue, ethics, and love is non-sense.
I commit myself to freedom because every attempt to escape from its responsibilities causes me pain.