The Art of Freedom

Hola Everybody!
It’s Friday, dammit! Now you have absolutely no reason to complain.

I keep forgetting to mention that everybody get up and go see Little Miss Sunshine. Don't let the title fool you, it's not a kiddie movie. It's actually, in my not so humble estimation, the Movie of the Year! Both Alan Arkin and Abigail Breslin, the young lady who portrays the title character, Olive , could easily win supporting actor Oscars! This is one of those movies "they don't make anymore," see it and be reminded of how story could actually transport/ transform/ transcend.

Finally, check out my friend/ tormentor/ former sex slave, Nina,  and buy soap from her. I think she has a good idea going, so let's support those of us who dare to "dream during the day"!

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 “To get where you want to go you can't only do what you like.”
-- Peter Abrahams (1919– )
South African novelist, Tell Freedom, 1954

“The greatest enemy of individual freedom is the individual himself.”
-- Saul David Alinsky (1909–1972)
Social activist, created numerous activist citizen & community groups

 Okay! So I’m standing in front a large group of incarcerated women. Half of them you can clearly see would rather be doing something else and my boss is in the process of introducing me. My director is an intelligent man. But like most intelligent people, he always feels a need to go off on tangents when speaking publicly. I’ve been trying to disabuse him of the notion that this is an attractive way to present a message. I’m glaring at him because I can see that the longer he talks, the harder it’s going to be for me.

 I’ve been known to cut people off, so he stops, grins knowingly at me, and introduces me.

 In the interest of adding some context to this moment let me relate a quick story. I was having dinner recently with some friends at my fave restaurant and as is our wont we were all kidding around and I was flirting with the new waitress. I am a notorious flirt, everybody knows this. I flirt with everyone, age, looks, sexual orientation doesn’t matter. If it moves, I flirt. Anyway, my friends and I are all cutting up and they ask the new waitress which one among our group would she trust the least. And immediately she looks at me! LOL!

“He’s too cute, he looks like a player,” she says! OMG!

You have to understand that between my two best friends and me I am a saint. My friends are predators, plain and simple. I don’t even like introducing them to any female platonic friends because these are the type of men and that give other men a bad name.

As you can see,  I’m far from a neutral presence. For some reason that escapes me, my presence elicits extreme responses. I don’t what it is; maybe it’s my habit of making eye contact (which sometimes is construed as a provocation), my stance, my posture, or my looks (or lack thereof) – whatever.

So there I am in front of a sizable number of bored women in a hot, stale-smelling gym. Welcome to my world! LOL!

Nevertheless, I attempt to work my magic little by little. I use key words at the right times, engage the participants, make one of them come up by my side while I illustrate a point with her assistance. I apply humor at those moments when some energy is needed and when I have them sufficiently riled up, I give them the juice! I pour the passion, I undress myself (no, not my clothes, perverts!) psychologically and I give them my message which is essentially a message of hope.

 I describe to them in as little detail as possible, how they can break out of their mental prisons and I recruit two more women to go through a little experiential exercise. By now, I’m in “flow” mode – I’ve become more translucent and the light is shining through me and it’s shining bright. What I mean by this is that  it’s no longer “Eddie” up there, doing something. iBu now it’s all a process and people are laughing, crying, understanding until 45 minutes later we’re finished, or started, depending on how you look at things.

Whatever your situation is at this moment, I can think of only one thing worse than being locked up. I don’t give a fuck what you’re going through, you’re fuckin’ free, dammit. At the very least, you're free in the legal/ physical sense. What I’m offering here is freedom from their mental prisons and that’s the only thing worse than being locked up in prison. You see, you can be restrained physically, but you have to allow another to lock up your mind.

 People tell me all the time that this idea of mine, of teaching people who are incarcerated the art of freedom, is not an attractive offer. “These people want jobs, housing, or training, Eddie,” they say.

 I disagree.

 Teach someone to be free and that person will be free no matter where she finds herself. And that is the message I try to embody – freedom. It is what I am passionate about, what I sell. By the end of the session, I come to the realization that I am drenched in sweat. I’m wearing a suit and tie. During the question and answer period a lovely young lady, she can’t be more than seventeen, asks about the streaks in my hair and I make everyone laugh by saying I fell asleep while on vacation and someone streaked my hair. It’s a special moment because her question was really an attempt to connect on another level. It was more like, is he one of us type of thing. We laugh and I tell them it’s part of a mid-life crisis, LOL!

 As a way of closure to the session, I ask everyone if they’re willing to go through the series of workshops with me. "Who wants to be free!" I ask. And, of course, everyone raises their hands, even the one young lady who gave me the hardest time. I warn them that I’m going to challenge them in ways they never knew and everybody’s like, "Yeah, come one with it!" Inwardly I sigh because these women are going to make me work and work hard. They're hungry for freedom and they feel it on many levels. To many there, I can imagine freedom is like a cool drink of water in the middle of a desert.

 What about you – are you truly  free?

 Love,

 Eddie

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Painting by Dr. Sabin-Corneliu Buraga