The Kind of Freedom No One Can Take Away
Photo by Design Ecologist via Unsplash.
As we move into this holiday weekend here in the United States, there is a lot of talk about freedom. Yet when I look around, the collective sense of freedom feels blurry, even fragile. Watching what's happening in my country and around the world, my heart aches.
But what if there is a deeper level of freedom that no one and nothing outside of us can take away?
Yesterday, I met this question head-on. I was reading about the passing of a piece of legislation that felt devastating. My body flooded with anger—hot, fiery, righteous. I wanted to lash out at family and friends who voted for this administration and ask, “Is this what you wanted? Look what you've done.”
I wanted to blame them for the pain I was feeling, and for the suffering I saw unfolding. That anger carried with it the urge to punish, to retaliate, to separate.
And then I saw it: I was doing exactly what I was accusing this administration of doing. I was dehumanizing.
I was making my friends and family wrong so I could feel right and good. I was blaming as a coping strategy for avoiding pain. I was forgetting their humanity, reducing them to a political choice. In that moment, I was closing my heart—othering people I love. That realization was sobering.
I've come to understand that anger is a front for hurt. So I paused. I sat on my porch, closed my eyes, and let myself feel what was there. As I let the anger soften, I felt the sadness underneath.
Tears came. Fear arose. Fear for the most vulnerable among us, fear about the loss of empathy in our culture, fear about losing my own empathy. And as all those feelings moved through, something loosened and let go. Within just a few minutes, I arrived in a place of openness. Spaciousness. Peace.
My mind was no longer stirred up. I could see the sky, hear the birds, and feel deeply connected to my heart. I didn't need the world to change to feel okay. I could see my friends and family as human again—imperfect, doing their best with what they know, just like me. And from that place, new possibilities emerged.
Instead of reacting out of anger (oh, those nasty emails my mind really wanted me to send), I responded from wisdom. I donated to support legal help for a woman whose whereabouts are unknown after being taken by ICE. I also started giving shape to a program that can help others drop into a deeper level of freedom within, so they can run more on love, not fear.
This is the medicine for our times: learning how to turn toward our most vulnerable, shameful, fearful misunderstandings so that we don't act from them and perpetuate the cycle of hate, suffering, and trauma.
The ability to meet yourself and your experience exactly as it is—that is true freedom. It's not dependent on circumstances or outcomes. It's always available, reliable, and beyond the stories of the mind.
Building the capacity to embrace what is happening inside, with honesty, tenderness, and compassion—and to allow it to move—is what is most needed. Here's why: so much of what I see in our world is an avoidance of being with our most vulnerable parts. We armor up with anger, we harden, we defend, and separate ourselves from one another. That separation breeds more fear, more violence, more “othering.”
The ego sees our vulnerabilities as weakness. It treats the pain it tries to protect us from as a threat. That's why our first response is so often to guard up and avoid our hurt. I can't help but wonder—if we, as a collective, stopped being afraid of our pain and learned to meet our vulnerability with love, how might that translate into the world? If the outer truly mirrors the inner, then perhaps we would begin to embrace and prioritize the care of our most vulnerable populations.
The only way to transform that cycle is to start within—to expand our capacity to stay open-hearted, even in the most challenging of times.
Our mind/heart/body system is designed for this: to feel it all, without closing down. Viktor Frankl wrote about this beautifully. Even in the unthinkable conditions of a concentration camp, he discovered an inner freedom—the ability to choose his response, and to keep his heart connected to meaning. Nobody could take that from him.
Your authentic expression—what feels true in the moment—if followed (in a healthy way) will bring you home. Growing up, you likely learned that some of your authentic feelings weren't safe, so you squashed them. Now, as an adult, part of your job is to gently learn to allow more room for all of you. To nourish the place inside of you that can hold it all.
The process is simple, but it's not easy.
It takes willingness…and patience…and a desire to take responsibility for your role in creating transformation.
What if this practice of meeting what's here became as natural as brushing your teeth?
What if this habit took over the world like cold plunges?
Imagine where we would be!
I don't know about you, but I kinda like the idea of a world where meeting our own hearts becomes the norm. Where turning toward what hurts—instead of running from it—becomes how we remember our shared humanity. Where responding with love is our default, not our exception.
That, to me, is the path of freedom. That, to me, is what we're here for.
With loving,
Amber
P.S. If turning this practice into a daily habit resonates, the program I mentioned—designed to help you move from understanding these ideas in your mind to living them in your body and being—is on the way. I'll be sharing more details soon, so keep an eye out!
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