"We are all free."
"No we're not."
He stopped and stared at me. "We are."
"How can you say that? We're stuck in jobs, we pay taxes, we're pushed around by politicians. How can that be free?"
He shrugged. "Minor stuff."
"Minor stuff? Yea, right."
He stared off into the distance, into the fuzzy horizon, then stared back at me again. "All of that's just blah, blah, blah stuff. Being free, really free, is something else again."
I sighed. "Ok mister, how are we free?"
He grinned, he'd been waiting. "Man, we are boundlessly free. We are free to choose how our lives go. We are free to choose the direction we travel, free to choose how we approach life, free to choose how we treat others. We can write poetry, we can make artwork, we can dance, we can sing, all that shit and more."
"But what if no one reads your poetry, no one buys your artwork, no one is interested in your singing and dancing?"
He shrugged. "You're still free to do all those things. Who gives a fuck if no one pays you for them? Is that your reason for not doing them? They don't have a market value? That is seriously fucked up!"
It was, and I was soooo wrong. I smiled and could only think of saying "cool". Sounded lame, but he grinned big and loud, he understood.
"We are free, like a bird soaring, like a bee buzzing, like a fish swimming." He balanced precariously on a rock, holding his arms out in a smooth gliding motion. The rock continually wobbled, he could fall, he could break something, he could die, but he laughed. He was free.