Language is . . . strange. Often times in my life a word was used and I had no idea what its meaning was. Not necessarily because it was an unknown word to me, indeed, that has happened throughout life and the learning of language. Sometimes a word was used that I had known, that I had been taught, and that I had a pretty specific idea of its definition, of the meaning behind it, and yet the other person speaking the word was operating from a completely different definition of the word. I came to understand that often time my fellow humans and I might use the same word and be speaking of completely incompatible meanings. This makes communication, real understanding of each other, problematic. Are you a Christian? Do you swing? Are you gay? Are you a Republican or a Democrat, or are you a Socialist or maybe a Communist?

Some wonder how I came to settle on the name; Freedomist. I had been forming the ideas that I wanted to express for over a life time of experiences. It is really a result of my socialization, education, and re-education by my own curious nature. Finding a word I was comfortable with that blended these processes was easy as I often was involved in the process of rejecting labels I had acquired. Indeed, the process was evolutionary and more of a result of mining my own experiences rather than adopting philosophies which had been put forth. It is not a system of values built without a foundation however. But how to express it?

For me, it, my life, has been about Freedom, trying to figure out what freedom looked like to me, and how to get there. It seemed I was always involved in some process to get myself free, to express myself, to find room in this world to consider any thoughts which I wanted to consider, to reorganize my beliefs and values in a manner that seemed to match the emanations from my heart. Just being involved in this process lead me to being labeled as rebellious in nature. This was not something readily tolerated in the institutions I was trying to operate within. Religious, economic, educational, governmental, and family; I seemed to always be bumping up against “authorities”, or those claiming to be authorities, in all institutions. I could elaborate with many studies and cases but that is in the past. Somehow, I have managed to survive without being incarcerated for my rebellious, self-directed ways. I attribute this survival to being raised in a semi-tolerant democratic society where there was at least some lip-service to freedom, as well as a level of craftiness and intelligence to know when to fight and when to run away, and also, being identified as a White Caucasian male. More often than not, this tolerance was expressed by the admonition of authorities, “If you don’t like it, go somewhere else.” So it was.

In the interest of sharing my story and to try and organize my experiences in some shareable form, and generally try to make sense of what it means to be a human, I began to search for a word, a label that would do justice to the set of beliefs, values, and experiences I was trying to share. It could not be something existing or offensive. It had to be relatable. It could not be condescending. It had to be inviting in nature. I am to the point in my life that I am well aware that I am not alone on this path. There is a ground-swell, both generationally, culturally, even worldwide that we, as humans, can reach for a better life, that these ways are not sufficient and are not compatible with living on this Earth. I am not interested in tearing down, in the decline of living into chaos, in destruction. I am interested in positive change, a paradigm that allows for all humans to participate in growth, development, prosperity, and happiness. I would like to see a place where love is spoken, practiced and taught to children.

My first idea was to call myself a Freedomista. I wasn’t sure what this meant but that was the whole purpose, obscure meaning that was not carrying a bunch of intellectual baggage that would be divisive in some manner among humans for reasons I might not understand. I had a friend who was a Spanish professor at a university whom I consulted because she was exceedingly fluent in the Spanish language, and it seemed like a Spanish word. She said, “Who cares what Freedomista might or might not mean? Go for it!” I was hesitant. And Prodigal? I have definitely been the Prodigal One in my life, wandering far from the paths of which I was raised, of which I had come to claim to believe in, as well as the path I felt in my heart. So, the Prodigal Freedomist I became. It is my intent to comfortably wear this label until my death. I am an individual in process. I am fully human. I am not enlightened. I am not all-knowing. I am not infallible. I do, at this stage of my life, unrepentantly live my life in the Present, the Vibrant Present, or at least I try to. I do uncompromisingly seek the truth without apology, without fear of shame, and without any illusion that it may surprise me or contradict me. I am free to ask any question, to make any decision with regard to my life, and above all else, free to make judgements on my actions, thoughts, and beliefs. I may be influenced by the thoughts, values, and actions of others but I will ultimately decide if there is truth and merit of these thoughts, values, and actions. I will hold myself responsible and accountable in all things. My mind is clear and my heart is open. This will guide me.

I am not intent on converting others to these thoughts and I certainly will not coerce another being to believe as I do. This is not the Way of The Freedomist. I do however, invite you to consider what I have said.