My generation grew up with the wrong idea of freedom. Freedom meant fulfilling desires. The desire to watch porn instead of studying for mind-numbing exams. Escaping the tedious, stupid rules of Sri Lankan boys’ schools. Having the pleasure of beating up the helpless – or the kick watching your cronies do it.
It’s the freedom politicians and other influential people flaunt.
Doing whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. Taking anything that catches your fancy without worrying about the rules or money. Symbolised by the armoured limos, convoys cutting through the traffic and the bodyguards who make a living with curfews and security checks irrelevant.
Freedom was escaping constraints on your desires placed on your by the powerful – parents, teachers, school, later by bosses and expectations of family and society. As we got older, many of my contemporaries saw intoxication as freedom.
When, where, and what you could get drunk on was a status symbol. How much booze you absorbed proved your freedom from the constraints of the body – thus, your robust health and youth. Your performance without Viagra was another status symbol. But how much you drank and got away with at the big match/dinner dance was an accepted way to flaunt your freedom.
Such freedoms are slavery.
Thankfully, I had the realisation early – during the burst of freedom after the O’levels. After the study and tuition treadmill, we had the time to attempt the pent-up ideas daydreamed in class. Desires never stop. They nag and nag and nag. It could be as innocent as yet another ice cream.
What I came to enjoy was not having to chase things. Having the time to focus so you can create something rather than consume. It could be a painting, installing Linux on an ancient computer, pecking a decent blog post or learning something new. Having that space meant freedom of a different kind: freedom FROM desire. Or its real name – craving.
True freedom comes by shutting down the insistent pulls and shouts of cravings. Giving craving attention wastes your time and energy. However tiny, the satisfaction of a craving proves how fleeting it is. Then the treadmill starts again. It is exhausting and idiotic.
In a practical sense, aggressively blocking media, advertising, and “pleasures” of consumption is a relief. It sounds like hard-core Buddhism. However, I’ve found it a survival mechanism. A real freedom.
There is a distinction between cravings and striving for a goal. It’s tempting to call this distinction splitting hairs. However, that splitting involves another post.
Cerno 