“Everyman dies but not everyman lives”
Being half Scottish, half English the words of William Wallace should invoke a degree of partisanry in my bones. Yet, my curiosity with his maxim extends more to his lasting appeal of his spirit than to historical precedence.
And it’s exactly that - his spirit. That a man stood for something means a lot in an era where we collectively work hard towards mediocrity. Most of us are fortunate enough not to live under oppressive foreign regimes but all of us face the daily challenge of retaining our freedom.
I’m not talking about the Patriot Act, CCTV or airport security procedures. Yes they’re relevant but what I’m more concerned about are the smaller more persuasive acts of suppression.
The prize of freedom: the expression of individuality, time to sit and drink tea, reading a book, playing with your daughter on a lazy Sunday afternoon, a walk in the woods or an extended lunch with an old friend.
Personal Everests
For years I held the notion, inspired by countless boys-own books read on heroic attempts to scale the world’s 7 highest peaks or treks into the icy wildernesses, that if I climbed Everest I’d satiate the gnawing agitation of the soul that accompanied being an entrepreneur. The only problem was I couldn’t climb and didn’t have an experience in these conditions. I took climbing courses and became reasonably proficient but still lacked the hands-on experience necessary to make it happen. Unperturbed I decided to head to the Himalayas to see for myself believing that perhaps just seeing the mythical peak and South Col of Everest would bring some kind of spiritual awakening. For months I held the fantasy that I would be watching sunrise over Everest and experience an immense peace within my being, perhaps even break into tears.
When I finally reached Tiger Hill overlooking the plains of Bengal, Bhutan and Eastern Nepal in 2003 one icy dawn at 8,500 feet I have to confess that the experience was well, rather disappointing. An amazing site yes. But peace? No…
The trip, however, turned up new discoveries where I least expected them. An afternoon sat in the ancient Durbar square of Kathmandu was perhaps a memory I’ll never forget. As we watched the pageant of life in all its colors; orange robed mendicant saddhus asking for “one dollar taking photo”, blind beggar families, old men resting against sticks with no seeming purpose except to observe from afar, busybody policeman wielding large batons and the gold, orange, green and red saris of the womenfolk who came to give offerings and pray. We sat for 2 maybe 3 hours. It could have been all day, I can’t remember as I wasn’t conscious of time just sitting and watching. For those few hours I could honestly say I felt a deep sense of wellbeing and peace.
Eating the Apple
If you want to understand peace and the meaning of freedom I’d say look no further than your children. Just the other day my 3 year old son sat eating an apple on the living room sofa. The TV was off, the room was quiet except for the indulgent noises of his exploration of the apple. I’d say quietly “Is it good?” without response, he was too engrossed in the activity with all senses - smell, taste, sound and the sight of the apple.
The beauty of childhood is that there is no struggle for freedom, it exists. As we grow, our lives become complicated faced with constant change that many of us are ill equipped to deal with. Few of us could boast the ability to have a 3 hour lunch break as many of the Mediterranean cultures once did a generation ago. We all now live with our sandwiches at the desk and takeouts.
One afternoon in Sao Paulo with time to kill before my flight to New York I sat and watched the world go by from my hotel window. Brazilian office workers leaving in groups heading to a local corner outside Taverna where they must have dined for more than an hour. Brazil is undergoing great change and these wonderful customs imported from Italy and Portugal will, as in the cities of their forebears, soon disappear.
I read recently that a new study published by some clever University professor “proved” that showering for more than 3 minutes was inefficient. I don’t know about you, but I enjoy showering in the morning and 3 minutes is woefully inadequate. Sometimes I can take 10 or 15 minutes because I simply like to enjoy the experience rather than rush towards the goal of efficiency.
Our lives are constantly bombarded by inconvenient but seemingly innocuous compromises. The Healthy & Safety Diktats, the company memos, advertising, the infectious habits of lazy co-workers, peer pressure to buy a Wii for your kids or the content of our junk media. Each is a call to action that ultimate benefits the caller not the actor.
Resistance isn’t an armed struggle nor a sit down Salt March. Resistance is in the simple act of claiming back your freedom embodied in the small acts of everyday life. It’s okay not to wear a poppy on remembrance day. It’s okay not to spend all morning checking emails. It’s okay to not believe what Fox News tells us about the Iranians. It’s okay to not be “busy busy busy” or “snowed under”.
As Winston recalls the nursery rhyme in 1984 as the ultimate act of defiance and the “freedom fighter”, so our choices between freedom or security manifest not in the obvious but in the smaller picture - the countless choices we make on a daily basis.
